Of Mugwumps and Toadstools
by Hestia Hesperus
Summary: COMPLETE! The Witching Hour's sequel: The Hesperus Mansion's in for some laughter and tears as the Rosier children get ready for one of their biggest pranks ever...what they hadn't planned on was a visit made by Albus Dumbledore...and someone else as well
1. A Story and a Dream

_Author's Note: _

_So here it is, mid-November just as I had promised! _Of Mugwumps and Toadstools _takes place in the Hesperus Mansion in Glasgow, Scotland. It will be six or seven chapters long, fully, and I will be able to update every week or so. The first chapter, _A Story and a Dream _introduces us to Evander, the youngest Rosier, and his relation to Hestia. The next chapters will go more toward the other children and everyone else living in the Mansion at this present time._

_For all those of you who have never read any of my works: _Stop! I command you to not read any further, else you shall be sorely confused and will have to read up on _The Witching Hour_ so as to not have any difficulty reading! It is a One-Shot and will take but a few fifteen minutes to read! I advise you do so.

_Thank you_ so much_, all of you reviewers! I write just for you! Now, enjoy the tale!_

_Signed, Hestia Hesperus_

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_**Of Mugwumps and Toadstools** _

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_Chapter One: A Story and a Dream_

**_E_**vander rested his chin on the table and stared. The quill was scratching back and forth, whining across the parchment inconsolably. The long feathery end rose up and tickled the nose of the woman holding it. Her face was so close to the parchment that it was a wonder she wasn't crossing her eyes to read.

Evander sat across from her, his wide blue eyes focused on the quill going back and forth, back and forth, furiously across the page. He wondered if he could ever write like that when he grew up. Right now, all he could do was make a large, crooked "A" diagonal on a parchment.

He watched the tip of the blue feather sway and then brought his eyes up to the woman's face. Her eyes were screwed up in concentration with a fiery gleam as words and ideas flowed into her head and out through her fingers. Every moment or two, she would pause and lick her lips before diving in again.

After five minutes of studying her face, watching it pucker and then slack, fall in disappointment and then beam brightly again, he decided to ask her a question.

"Aunt Hestia?"

Hestia Hesperus gave a startled yelp and jerked her head up. Her hand slipped and a sharp, black line appeared, attached to the bottom of a "Y".

She looked at him, startled. "When did you get here?"

He lifted his chin off of the desktop to talk to her. Except for the part where his chin had rested, it was completely filled with papers and books and quills and inkbottles. His only aunt was up to her elbows in her latest writing project.

All Evander knew about his Aunt Hestia's writing was that it was called something like "The Templest" and that she had been working on it non-stop for the past two and a half weeks. She hardly even ate anything, unless you were to hold a biscuit next to her face for twenty seconds. Only then would she open up her mouth, and even then it was absent-mindedly.

Evan knew that she would get like that a lot when she was writing another one of her books, because him and his brother and sisters were usually there each time she started one. In fact, they were at her house so often that they were usually there when she would hold up her finished manuscript, proudly announcing, "I'm done!"

He took his time answering. He was like that. Of course, Alexandra and Tobias often grew frustrated with him because they were very active, and they thought that he was very slow. But he didn't care; he was only five, after all, and that was a pretty good excuse.

When he was sure of what he was going to say, he answered her in his small, boyish voice. "I've be'n here for a whole seventeen minutes!"

Hestia's eyebrows lifted up. "Oh."

And that was that.

They were seated in the library, of course. Every single person in the Hesperus Mansion had already tried their luck at getting Hestia to come out and enjoy the beautiful day, but no one had succeeded. Marmie, her beloved cook, had even tempted her with her famous peppermint pansies…but even if Hestia had taken the bait she would have been too late, because as soon as Marmie's back was turned in the kitchen, Tobias had snuck in and smuggled them out, via owl.

Lord Balfour had tried, and failed, to send a stunner in her direction so that he could carry her successfully to her bed and sufficiently feed her. It almost worked…except for the fact that Hestia's house-elf and long-time friend, Biddy, had turned the corner on him as he peered into the library. Just as he had raised his wand, she had shouted, "Bad Balfour!" just as she would have scolded her own son, then pulled him by the hem of his blue cloak down the hall and away from her mistress.

Irene, Hestia's older sister, knew that when she got like this, all you could do was leave her be. Irene was a very sensible person and an even more responsible mother, but when it came to her sister, all she could do was throw her hands up and say "Bah!"

So they had left her alone for two and a half weeks. But the children's aunt was Hestia Hesperus after all. The same woman who had successfully become assistant to the Head of the Magical Entertainment Department two months after her graduation at Hogwarts. The same woman who had actually become the Head of Department just ten years later, making her the youngest person to hold any Head office in more than thirty years at the age of twenty-eight. The very same person who had written just one book on the development of witches since the year 1000 in the culture of Wizarding society, receiving top awards, countless interviews, thousands of fans around the world, one long continuous book tour, and thousands of Galleons in shares.

Not to mention this immense stone house in Glasgow, left to her by her great-uncle Haverington, who had passed away happily at one hundred and thirteen years of age, clutching her Magical Munificence: A Witch's Guide to Generosity in his hands and chortling madly.

Evander thought that his Aunt Hestia deserved to spend some time alone. She could take care of herself. No one else thought so, though, and it was most unfortunate, because she was doing quite well on her own. Why, as Hestia dipped her quill into the inkpot, Evander thought that she looked better than ever!

Her white fingers were stained with black ink and her face quite pale. Her dark blue eyes, dancing with fire in their sockets, made her pallor all the more noticeable. Her long brown curls were knotted and disheveled.

She wore a thick, rose-colored cloak (surprising since it was the beginning of July), a white, buttoned-up shirt, dark gray pants and shiny, black, high-heeled boots. It would have been a good combination if you overlooked the fact that they were wrinkled and ink-stained, because she had been wearing them for three days straight.

Evander heard his mother saying the other day that it was a good thing that they were staying with her -- otherwise, there would be no clothes on Hestia at all, just the pajamas she had been wearing when she'd started writing two weeks ago. Irene had had to confiscate these because she couldn't magically vanish the ink stains or fix the many tears with her wand. Evan had watched his mother scrub and scrub with Mrs. Skower's All-Purpose Magical Mess Remover, but to no avail. So away they went.

Evander was still standing next to the desk that he could just barely see over, resting his chin on the surface. He was waiting, with unusual patience for a small boy his age, for her to remember that he still needed to ask her a question. Sure enough, she was in the middle of sprinkling some iodized salt onto her finished parchment when she looked up at him.

"Didn't you want me for something, Evan?" she asked narrowing her eyes suspiciously.

He gave her a shy smile and his bright blue eyes almost made her heart melt all over her precious papers. Unfortunately for her, the unheeded salt bottle was destroying them sufficiently enough. Her hand, poised in midair, was still holding the bottle upside-down, creating a mound of its contents upon her newly finished writing, with more trickling out every second.

He transferred his gaze from her face to the desk. She looked down and realized her salty mistake. Righting the bottle hastily, she vanished the salt with the wand she pulled out from the special pocket in her cloak. Nevertheless, the top page had ink smears all over it. She put her head in her hands and groaned.

She heard Evan ask, "Can you make Topples do the sparklies again? Please?" Looking up, she saw him holding a certain green, long-legged stuffed turtle with a multi-colored shell.

She sighed and smiled wearily. "Alright. Hand him over."

He stood on his tiptoes to hand his stuffed turtle over the desktop and into her hands. He gripped the desk's ledge, watching her with wide eyes, as she picked up her wand again and tapped Topples' back.

"Micochelonia." Hestia gave a small circular wave of her wand, and Topples' shell, already covered with dully-colored jewels, shone brighter, each color beginning to coruscate rapidly.

Hestia handed the turtle back to her nephew, her eyes twinkling when she saw his awed look and bright grin. Evan hugged his favorite toy to his small chest tightly. Topples glittered imperiously, now the proudest and handsomest turtle in England (either real or stuffed).

Now, by the strictest interpretation of the law, this was illegal, and Hestia knew that. Muggle things were not supposed to be enchanted except under strict Ministry supervision, and Topples was a Muggle toy. Hestia had bought Topples for Evander for his birthday in January, at a Muggle toy store in Glasgow, and he had carried it around everywhere ever since. It was too adorable and Evander-ish for her to pass it up.

Hestia was grateful Irene did not know about Topples' "sparklies", or else she would have thrown a fit about Hestia enchanting non-Magical toys just to please her darling nephew. But Evander loved watching the "sparklies", and his aunt Hestia considered it a worthy life's work to make him the happiest boy in the world now and again. Heaven knew that he got more than his share of the world's unfairness nearly every night with the nightmares he'd been having.

Hestia shuddered, thinking about just the night before. Evander had come into the darkened library where she had been scribbling away, as usual…

_It was three o'clock at night. The grandfather clock had just chimed its ringing tones throughout the circular library where Hestia was writing by the light of her wand. _

_She had looked up when she heard a sniffle and a whimper. Immediately she ran to her small nephew who stood in the doorway in his Cleansweep-printed pajamas, Topples hanging limp by his side. What had frightened her the most was not merely his being there, but his white, tear-stained face and the terrified, haunted look in his eyes._

_As she knelt down to ask him what the matter was, he threw his arms around her and clung to her, sobbing uncontrollably into her robes._

_Hestia carried him to the armchair by the fireplace. She rocked him and hugged him, conjuring a fire into the empty grate. She was startled when he compulsively drew back from the flames as though they had burned him. She hastily cast a Freezing charm over them again._

_When he had settled down a bit and his hiccoughs had subsided, she drew up some hot chocolate with creamy marshmallows for him and convinced him to tell her about his scary dream._

"_Th-th-there was a m-m-mean m-man," He gasped. "An'…an' a black d-d-dragon!"_

_He gave a dry sob and Hestia held him tighter. He wrapped his little arms around her neck and buried his face in her chest, mumbling, "M-M-Mummy and D-Daddy tried to save us from them, but th-th-then the d-dragon blew fire and it-it-it ---- hiccup! ----_ hit them!"

_Evander cried and his hiccoughs came back again. "M-Mummy and Dad-dy-dy ---- hiccup!__----caught fire an' me and Mory and Lexa and Toby tried to run away from them ---- hiccup! ---- but the m-man got in front of us and gr-grabbed Lexa and…threw her into the ice w-w-w-water!" He wailed and Hestia rocked him._

"_It's all right, Vanny, babe," she whispered. "Alexa is safe in her bed…it was just a dream, it wasn't real at all."_

_He nodded numbly and went on, "T-Toby tried to pull her out ---- hiccup! ----but then the mean man blasted him far away and ---- hiccup!----the dragon st-started to e-e-eat him!"_

_Evan took a sip from his mug to try and calm his nerves. Hestia wasn't even aware of the tear sliding down her own face as she focused on him. _

_He sat back and continued. "He tried to get M-Mory, but I wouldn't let him ---- hiccup! ----And then there was a green light and Morg-g-gan…she just…died! An', an' then, he looked at me, an' an' an' then, I…I…I woke up!"_

_Hestia let him cry into her clothes until he was spent, all the time murmuring to him. "Hush now, Evan, baby…everything is alright now. It was just a dream, and it will never ever happen for real."_

_He hiccoughed again and said in a softer voice, "I tried to wake up Mummy but she wouldn't wake up! An' I thought the dragon got her in her d-d-dreams, too---- hiccup!" _

_She wiped away his tears lovingly with her sleeve and stood up with him holding on tightly. _

"_Come on, Evan…there's nothing wrong with Mummy, don't worry. I'll show you."_

_She carried him out of the room and down the dark hall, up the magnificent staircase and towards the children's room. One of his arms was wrapped protectively around her neck, his other clutched Topples to his chest. _

_Inside the room, gentle snores could be heard from the other children. Only Evander's bed in the corner was empty. Hestia stepped over the strewn magical toys, some of which were still zooming tiredly around. She got to Alexandra's four-poster bed first and drew back the curtains to reveal the nine-year-old girl curled up under her red sheets, her curls splayed wildly atop her pillow._

_Evan smiled slightly as he saw that his sister wasn't really struggling to stay alive under a coat of ice in a freezing lake, like she had been in his dream. She was murmuring contentedly instead, about flying and feathers in her own pleasurable dream._

_Tobias, like his twin sister, was curled up in his own bed; his sheets and pillow had long since fallen to the floor. His arm was thrown out over the edge, as if he had tried to dispose of that as well, and his mouth hung open, a small snore emerging from it. _

_Evan stifled a giggle, but it was quickly quenched when he remembered the sight of his brother being scorched and then gored open by the raging monster. Hestia, noticing her nephew's suddenly heavy limbs, carried him around to his other sister's bed._

_However, when Hestia drew back the hangings of the third bed, they found that it was unmistakably empty._

_Evan's eyes grew big. For one painful moment, Hestia's heart stopped. What had happened to her? Where was she? _

_Evan could see in his mind's eye the bright green light and Morgan's pale body landing in the snow…_

_Hestia drew in her breath sharply. There could be a thousand reasons for why she wasn't in her bed at night…perhaps she had to use the toilet…or maybe she had gone to look for Evan?_

_With Evan's increasing anxiety (and her own) clutching at her chest, Hestia strode out of the room, Evan's face buried in her shoulder, his arms clutched around Topples. Maybe Morgan was with her mother…yes…that would be the best place to look first…_

_When they reached Irene's room, Hestia sighed in relief. Irene slumbered in the big bed against the far corner and, settled next to her, lay her youngest daughter, Morgan. "Evan, look," she whispered, gently freeing his face so that he could see his mother and sister. "Everything is all right, see?"_

_Evan nodded, swallowing hard. Hestia carried him to the bed and laid him in it. Evander crawled under the covers in-between his mother and his sister. Both ladies slept on, unaware that Evan had taken Mory's hand under the sheets comfortingly and put his own arm around Mummy's stomach. He didn't want them to leave him, ever._

_He closed his eyes and muttered sleepily, "G'nigh'…aunty Hestia…" before sleep took a hold of him completely._

_Hestia stood beside the bed for a moment, hearing their gentle breathing. She watched Evander's chest rise and fall as he slept with a golden-curled girl on either side of him._

_She wondered why Evan had nightmares every night. She had only had one nightmare as bad as his, when she was eleven, about her parents. And she knew she had only had it because it had come true right in front of her the week before…_

_Hestia softly murmured her own good night before leaving the bedroom and shutting the door behind her..._

Hestia jumped, realizing that she had been so caught up in her thoughts that she hadn't even heard Evan's question properly. He was sitting on the floor next to his shimmering turtle, looking up at her expectantly.

"I…I am sorry, Evander, what was that you said?" she asked.

He scratched his head. "I've just 'membered, Marmie tol' me to ask you if you want your lunch in here or in the dining room."

Hestia stood up, brushing her hands free of any salty substance that had been left behind. All of a sudden, she had become so deathly tired of the library. It was musty and old smelling, and she had the strongest desire to take a big breath of fresh air.

Sheran her fingersthrough her wild curls, then gave up, deciding that they would just have to do for the time being. Tucking her wand into her robes once more, she walked over to Evander and held out an ink-stained hand.

"Would you like to go for a walk with me?" she inquired of him.

He sat on the floor and looked at her, his face passive. Then he reached up and took her hand gravely, pulling himself off of the floor. He picked up Topples and walked with her, hand in hand, out of the library.

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_A/N: Well, there you have it! Please review and tell me what you think of it so far. If you think I need to brush up on anything, feature more of someone or something, or if you would just like to express your undying displeasure, feel free to do so._

_Also, my _Hestia Hesperus _series (what shall I call them, anyway?) will be a large assortment of one-shots, short stories, and large plots and will cover the next few years following Hestia, the Rosier children, and co. until the children all go into Hogwarts, and beyond. _

_So don't despair! I plan on never forsaking these people I have created. Their Universe is the same asthe Harry Potter canon, so please watch for any known characters. Some might even marry one of mine_...(hint, hint)

_IMPORTANT: You must pay very close attention...even the slightest detail may betherelevant to the center plot of my series. I have already planned them all out, and things will get very interesting later on...!_

_I love you all! _

_----H.H._


	2. A Violet, an Imp, and a Feather

_Disclaimer: I do not own any characters or places that are mentioned in the Harry Potter books, or in HP Lexicon. Everything else, however, is mine. Cheers!_

_Oh, and just in case any of you were wondering, I did not not make up the spell Hestia used to change Evan's turtle. The words _are _Latin-based! I didn't just pull out a funny word out ofthe top of my head!_

---_H.H.

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_**Chapter Two: A Violet, an Imp, and a Feather**_

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**_M_**eanwhile, in the large kitchens, it was chaos.

Marmie Dunblane was Hestia's plump and boisterous cook. Her gray-streaked hair was always drawn messily into a bun to keep out of her eyes while she mixed ingredients and chopped vegetables. Marmie had cooked for old Haverington, too, and kept the rooms cleaned and the floor swept for him before he passed away a year and a half ago. She lived with her Muggle husband in the countryside and came to work every day by Floo.

Today she was bustling around, taking pots off the fires and opening the cupboards magically. Plates and cups were zooming out, flying over everyone's heads and across the room to land on top of the table in the adjoining room, maneuvering around Tobias' outstretched hand and Lord Balfour's tall brown head. Irene was trying her best to set the table around Balfour's big frame, and her oldest son, who was trying to snatch things out of the air for devices of his own, did not help one bit.

"Tobias! I swear, if you do that one more time, I'll----" Irene snapped just as he had managed to capture the sugar bowl, which was quaking in his grasp.

"_Mum_! Don't swear on _my_ account! It would horribly deflect upon my conscience if you did, believe me!" the nine-year-old replied cheekily. Tobias was an imp and a smart one at that.

Irene only swatted the back of his curly head in response and relocated the sugar bowl.

When she moved away, Tobias snuck a small handful of Pepper Imps and Fizzing Whizbees into his pockets. Marmie always insisted on keeping a small bowl of sweets for a snack in the afternoon, and on this day Tobias was taking advantage of that.

At the other end of the large, wooden table, Morgan sat with the Baron, Lord Balfour, or Uncle Balfour, as the children liked to call him. They were huddled together, whispering excitedly, both of them looking down at something clasped in Balfour's hands. Morgan's long curls fell over her face and onto the table, so Irene couldn't quite see on what they were looking at. She had a guess, though, seeing as how it was green and wriggling…and seeing, also, that this _was_ her daughter and the baron, Lord Balfour.

In fact, her guess was right on the dot, if one were to take a closer look at it; and since Irene was now in the kitchen, retrieving a bowl of buttered rolls, Morgan could now lean back a little bit, so that one could take a closer look at it. Morgan knew what her mother would say if she saw just what exactly Uncle Balfour was holding.

In his soft, soiled hands, he held what looked like a small cluster of slimy violets. The tiny blue flower at the end of the wiggling stem kept opening and closing, producing the faintest smell of rotten fish and boiled cabbage. This flower was only a seedling so its stench wasn't deadly yet, but upon maturing, the scent of the Violent Violet could make trained wizards pass out.

"Do you see this small blue cut underneath its petals, Morgan?" Balfour whispered, trying to show her. The Violet was squirming so much at his touch that Morgan could only see it for one split second when its petals curled up, before it stretched them back out again.

"I saw it, Uncle Balfour!" the six-year-old girl squealed excitedly. "It does something, doesn't it? When it's big and grown, huh?"

He chuckled, "You're right! Where did you hear about that? The older they get, the more the cut swells, and when they are full grown it is this very same cut that can somehow sense danger. Before anyone can pick it or squash it or do it any harm, it lets out the most disgusting smell---so terrible that the person nearest it will fall down, choking. If there is no one there to pull him away instantly, then he will die."

She looked at him, eyes wide in astonishment. "But then, how come _you_ have one? Won't it kill you?"

Balfour shook his head, smiling, "No, Morgan, don't worry, I'm not going to have it long enough for it to mature. You see, the Violent Violet, when ground into powder, is often used in such potions as the Befuddlement Draught, the Shrinking Solution, and the Polyjuice Potion."

"What's that?" Morgan lowered her voice as Biddy walked by and cast them an unsavory look.

Balfour cleared his throat and waved his hand impatiently. "Oh, it just turns you into another person. Anyway, the other batch I have in the greenhouse aren't ready yet, but when they all have seven blossoms attached to the stem, that means they are just ripe enough. Then we will shave off the slime----which I'll boil and send to Professor Snape for him to use in a Truth Serum----and wait three days for the stem to dry."

"An' then we'll grind it, right?" Morgan asked. At her uncle's nod, she looked down at the small plant sadly. "Do we _have_ to kill it, Uncle Balfour?"

"You said yourself that it's dangerous to keep a full grown one, Morgan. I told you before that some plants in the greenhouses are not to keep and take care of, but to put to good use for potions and other things. That's why I have two greenhouses, remember? To separate them. So don't get too close to this one!"

Morgan looked down at it wistfully for a moment, before it spat out another horrible whiff. She wrinkled her nose in disgust and said, "No, that's okay…I don't think I will!"

Balfour roared with laughter, causing the whole kitchen to look over at them. When he just shook his head, smiling, they all went back to getting the food ready.

Biddy, the house-elf and Hestia's oldest and dearest friend, was carrying a bowl of hot peas to the table. She was only two feet high, so she had to reach a bit to set the hot bowl next to Balfour's plate. The tall Baron looked over briefly, saw the house-elf's clothes whip out of sight, and focused his attention onto the vegetables before him, digging hungrily in.

Alexandra, meanwhile, was carrying out her _own_ mission. She was in the kitchen pretending to help Marmie and Biddy and her mother, but in reality she had swiped Marmie's wand when the cook wasn't looking. The girl had taken but two steps---the stolen wand hidden safely up her sleeve---when she stopped and realized just what Marmie was doing…

The cupboard doors, the drawers opening and closing, knives cutting without assistance, utensils flying across the room…Marmie was doing all of this _without her wand_!

Alexandra twirled around and stared at the cook wide-eyed. Marmie was still bustling around, setting pots on the table in the attachment room, scooping up moving knives and setting them in the soapy sink. She didn't even seem to notice that her wand was missing! A grin stole across the girl's face and she was almost out of the door when she bumped into the person nobody thought was ever going to arrive.

"Aunt Hestia!" Alexandra said in surprise.

Everyone turned to look at her and Hestia smiled sheepishly.

"Does this mean you're done?" asked Balfour hopefully.

Hestia shook her head. Evander, who had walked in with her, released her hand to go sit with his brother, cupping his small hand against Tobias' ear and whispering.

"No, actually, I just needed a little break is all!" Hestia replied.

Marmie muttered to the sink, "A little one? I'm never gonna let her out o' this kitchen, now!"

Irene smirked. "Yes, please don't!"

Tobias hurried into the kitchen, having just spotted a pan of crisp apple pie. He devoured it with his eyes as he carried it reverently to the table, setting it in the middle like it was the King of England.

Hestia missed Marmie and Irene's interchange due to a very sharp eye. Just as Alexandra tried to pass her, Hestia stuck out her arm and glared at her.

"Care to hand that over, Alexa?" she asked.

The girl groaned and pulled the wand out from her sleeve, where the tip had slipped out a bit. She had nearly made it out!

Handing it over, she muttered, "It's Marmie's."

Her aunt grinned in satisfaction. "Thank you. Next time don't take it from such an obvious person, Marmie's looking for it already!"

Alexandra blew her cheeks out in frustration and flipped her long hair. Glancing over her shoulder she saw, sure enough, that Marmie was searching all over the counter for it.

Hestia looked surprised, but pleased, when Alexandra gave her a quick hug before exiting, calling over her shoulder, "Nice to see you out of that room, anyway!"

Hestia chuckled and helped bring in the last of the food onto the table. Finally, after what seemed like ages to Tobias, everyone dug in.

Tobias reached for the pie with a well-practiced arm. He had the pan in his grasp and was just lifting a knife to cut it when his mother caught his arm.

"Eat some food first! Desserts are for last, you know that!" she scolded. Tobias rolled his eyes, gave her the pan, and reached for something else.

There were baked potatoes as well as mashed, bowls of cooked peas and carrots, hot buttery rolls, creamy fruit salads, and an apple pie. While Marmie had been busy with the vegetables, Biddy had made sweet lemonade for the children and iced tea for the adults.

Because it was a cool July day, the windows on one side of the paneled room were all open, inviting the nice afternoon breeze into the room where Hestia, Lord Balfour, Irene, Marmie, Tobias, Morgan, and Evan were sitting. In addition, the open windows let the sweet wafting smells escape outside to where the groundskeeper happened to be working not fifty feet from the windows.

Old William Rhum set down his pruning sheers and sniffed. He was an old fellow and very thin with astonishingly blue eyes and white, wispy hair. He was tall, too, though you couldn't tell because he always stooped, as though hunch-backed.

He stood back and admired his handiwork. Around the perimeter of the Hesperus grounds was a high stoned wall, and before that was a hedge. It was near the gatehouse that Old William was pruning. Things tended to get wilder as they neared the gatehouse.

Old William picked up his shears again, having just spotted one unruly branch in the back that he missed before. He leaned forward, wobbling on his knobby legs, and snipped the small branch, nearly falling headfirst into the hedge. His crooked cane lay discarded by the gate, and next to it lay his graying cloak and a bottle of dram. Finally, he straightened up and concentrated once more on that delicious whiff he caught earlier.

Tatties…yes, he could smell tatties…the unenchanted _normal_ ones that he planted in his small garden that was kept far away from the Baron's wild greenhouses that were teeming with magic. He also caught the smell of freshly squeezed lemons, and…hot bread...and something else...the overpowering smell of apple pie. He nodded in satisfaction and picked up his things, limping slightly to the kitchen door.

A babble of sound met his ears as he entered; everyone was talking at once. Hestia laughed delightfully at a joke Tobias had told her, while Irene beside her was dabbing at the tea on the table that her sister had spat out. Evander, instead of eating his peas, was balancing them on top of his spoon, his eyes silently willing them not to fall over. Marmie was trying to hide her grin as she scolded him for playing with his food, but she wasn't quite succeeding. He had just placed the seventeenth pea on his precarious pile; Marmie was astounded that they all hadn't fallen over yet.

Tobias was stuffing taters into his mouth cumpulsively, saying, "Yer shpoiling ush today, Mahmie!"

Balfour rescued some of the mashed potatoes from Tobias and shoveled them onto a plate for the groundskeeper.

"Eat up, Old William!" the Baron boomed, "You could use a bit of fattening up, yourself! Where's Alexandra, by the way? Rolls are her favorite."

Tobias shrugged, feigning innocence. "Who knows? The girl has a mind of her own, she's a free spirit! Doesn't take well to being tied down! Like me! Can I have some apple pie now, Mum?"

Irene shook her head, pushing back her blond curls from her face. "No, Tobias! She probably went to see where Dingy went. He's been hiding ever since Toby said he was going to show him Balfour's collection of Mediterranean sponge."

"An' wot's so frigh'enin' aboot them?" Old William asked, sitting down next to Biddy.

"They have spikes!" Tobias said eagerly once he had cleared his mouth, "That shoot out of the pores when they sense someone approaching. They are the only sponges in any saltwater sea that can do it---!"

"Ah! Well that would do it!" Hestia took a sip from her icy cold tea and glanced over at Biddy. The house-elf sat composed atop the stack of books that were perched on her chair.

Hestia had known Biddy all of her life; they had grown up together, really. When Hestia was little, Biddy usually watched her when her parents were gone to work and Jason and Irene were at Hogwarts. They were at the age when neither of them paid any attention as to the difference of their species. They played together, ate together, and Hestia would even join Biddy in the housework. When Hestia's parents died the spring after she turned eleven, it was only she and Biddy who went to stay with great-uncle Haverington while Jason and Irene finished up their school year. Hestia was very pleased that the children's relationship with Biddy's son, Dingy, was the same that she had shared with her own house-elf.

Morgan sat on Biddy's other side, smearing gravy into her mashed potatoes. She was softly singing a song about pansies she had heard Old William singing just a while ago. Now and then, she would sneak glances at Uncle Balfour's cloak pocket, where the Violent Violet sat wriggling. She couldn't wait until supper was done so that she could pot it with Balfour in one of his greenhouses.

Balfour finished the last of his supper and scooped some delicious apple pie onto his plate, covering it with whipped cream. Tobias watched his every movement closely, his mouth watering. He looked down at his own plate, which still held the cooked carrots that he hated. "Can I have some apple pie _now_, Mum?" he asked pleadingly.

"Not until you finish your carrots, Toby! How many times do I have to tell you, you crazy imp?" Irene shook her head. "Well, that girl had better hurry before there's no food left! What with Balfour, William, and Toby all here, she's going to have to scrape the bottoms of the pans to get anything!"

* * *

Alexandra walked through the empty halls of the mansion on the third floor. Her footsteps echoed each time she placed her booted feet on the elegant stone.

Ever since she was six years old, Alexandra had exasperated her mother by acting and wanting to dress like her wild aunt. Irene could never get over the similarities in those two's personalities and looks. They shared the same dark brown, almost black, hair that curled and twisted down to their mid-backs. Their eyes were similar as well, though Hestia had dark blue and Alexa's were green.

Both of them acted on impulse, though Hestia's were more guarded and analyzed given her age and her past. Both of them even loved to write; Hestia was more interested in facts and history and bettering the lives of others, while Alexa would scribble away happily for hours, filling rolls of parchment, telling fantastical tales and weaving stories to suit her own fancy.

But right now, Alexandra was looking for Dingy. She called the small house-elf's name and poked her nose into several rooms, including Uncle Balfour's. She was about to exit it when her eye snagged on a small, quaking figure in a small corner beside a tall vine.

"Dingy?" She walked over and crouched next to him. He hid his little head in his arms, making his large, bat-like ears stick out protrusively. He was dressed in small trousers that Hestia had made for him and a little white shirt that was severely stained.

"Dingy, what's the matter?" Alexa questioned, placing a hand on his shoulder.

He lifted his face up to hers and blinked tears out of his enormous brown eyes. Then he threw his little arms around her neck and gave a small sob.

"Aww, Dingy! Was it what Toby said about the sponges? Cause if it was, I'll pummel him for you!" she said, hoping to reassure him. She was most surprised when he shook his head violently and spoke up.

"Oh no!" he squeaked. "T'wasn't Toby a' tall! Dingy isn't frightened of sponges, Miss! It's something else…but Dingy can't say! I is not wanting to!"

Alexandra stood up with him wrapped tightly around her. She walked to Balfour's bed, pried him off and set him on it, and said, "Alright, spill it!"

Dingy sniffled and heaved a great sigh. "Okays, okays, Dingy will. Me was in the gatehouse one days---but just looking!" he added hastily at Alexandra's face.

"Dingy! You know Old William hates us going in there! But then…that's why you did it, didn't you? I think me and Toby are bad influences. Did he catch you?" she asked eagerly.

"Oh, no's! Dingy wouldn't be so foolishly if he's did that! Nope, Dingy hids when Ol' Williamer's comes in! He's wasn't been catching us that days, no sir!" Dingy smiled proudly, and Alexa grinned.

"Anywho's, Dingy's be hiding in a cupboard with ratses and roachies…me hates them, Miss!" He shivered.

Alexandra rolled her eyes, "Dingy, I've _told _you not to call me that! You call Toby, Morgan, and Evander by their real names, why can't you with me?"

"Oh's because, Miss! Dingy's be thinking you looks like a Miss an' nothin' else. Mory looks like Mory and Hesty looks like Hesty and Barons looks like Barons, so that must means that Miss must looks like Miss!"

Alexandra cocked her head at his reasoning, but decided to let it pass. "Go on," she said.

"Dingy's be's in filthy, roaching cupboards an' hears Ol' Williamer's bangings and tootings, Miss! Then pops is heard an' fire crackles an' then i' tisn't only Dingy in the room with him…Ol' Williamer's talks to the head in the fire an' then they leave, and guess what Dingy heard, Miss! Guess!" Dingy looked up at her, his big ears wiggling and his squat, tomato-like nose twitching.

"Er…er, I have no clue, Dingy, what?" Alexandra looked puzzled.

"Dingy hears the Proseffor, Miss! An' the Proseffor's be's saying he's coming today, Miss! So Dingy's be's hiding from the Proseffor, cuz Dingy's is frightened of him an' wants to be in hidings so me won't be found!"

Alexandra wrinkled her eyebrows, "But Dingy! Who is a 'Proseffor'? What do you mean? Who's coming?"

Dingy leaned forward and clasped her face in his long-fingered hands. "The _Proseffor_, Miss! With white hairies and tallses hats! _Proseffor Dummydoor_!"

* * *

A loud screech came from outside, and everyone in the kitchen turned to look. Above the treetops soared a beautiful Great Horned Owl, heading straight for the mansion.

"Oh, great! Cadmus is back, I had sent a letter to Albus pertaining to…er, never mind. But that's odd...I didn't expect him to write back, I wonder what it's----"

Hestia was interrupted by a scurrying of feet, and the next second Alexandra crashed into view, holding a stitch in her side.

"I know---what it's---about!" the girl gasped. Dingy had his arms wrapped around her neck again, and looked a bit greener than usual. Hestia didn't know whether that was because of his ride down there or of something else.

Tobias shoved the last agonizing bite of cooked carrots into his mouth. With a revolted expression, he swallowed with some difficulty. He shook his head and blinked his eyes. Then, he reached for his lemonade, took a swig, and looked over at the apple pie. Old William was just reaching over, about to take the very last piece.

As quick as a flash, Tobias shot out his seat, scooped up the pie with his hand and plopped it onto his plate. He looked up at Old William and grinned.

"Ye crazy bairn! I'll roast ye fer tha'!" Old William shook his fist at him.

Tobias smirked, smearing whipped cream onto his crumb pie.

When she could breathe again, Alexa hurried to the window where Cadmus had landed and was now sticking out his leg. He looked very pleased with himself and kept glancing over at the others, expectantly.

Alexa fumbled with the knot. When she untied it and released to small scroll, Cadmus took off, clipping her shoulder, and flying over everyone's heads and food towards his mistress.

"Ow!" exclaimed Alexa, rubbing her shoulder.

"Hey, watch it, featherbrain!" Marmie roared as one of Cadmus' wings dipped into the pitcher of tea. It toppled and nearly fell off the table.

One of Cadmus' talons clipped Balfour's tall head and he winced, rubbing it. Bits of feathers fell into the nearly empty pot of mashed taters. By the time Cadmus had reached Hestia, most of the occupants were either laughing or glaring at the big owl. Cadmus usually flew with grace, but he was so big that inside the house, he just looked clumsy.

While his twin sister scanned the contents of the letter that was addressed to their aunt, Tobias picked up his fork and spoon, ready to gorge into his favorite dessert. He looked down at his food.

Irene scolded her daughter for reading someone else's mail, but it was cut short by a loud whoop from Alexa.

"He's coming! He's coming!" she shrieked. "He'll be here at four and he's going to be eating dinner with us! _Yes_!"

"Who's coming?" several people asked at once.

"Professor Dumbledore, of course! Who else?" She sat down at the table, flushed. Hestia snatched the letter out of her hands and read it, Cadmus pecking at her hair dolefully.

There was a bubble of talk as everyone resumed eating, asking Alexa about what she read. Everyone, that is, except for Tobias.

"Whassa the matter, Toby?" Evander asked his older brother.

Tobias still sat, staring at his apple pie mournfully, utensils in hand. Evander glanced down and clapped his hand over his mouth to stop a bout of laughter from escaping. Balfour looked over at Toby's plate, and Old William peered over the lemonade pitcher. When the old man saw what was on the boy's pie, he chuckled gleefully.

"Rotten luck, tha'!" he laughed.

There, in the middle of Tobias' delicious dessert, lay a long brown feather, plastered to his whipped cream, covering the length of his pie completely.

Tobias groaned.

* * *

_Author's Note: There you have it! Please feel free to review,whether you like it, or not. For those of you who have, thank you! Hope everyone has had pleasant holidays! The next chapter of this story will be posted in one week. I love you all! If you have any questions, please let me know and I will answer them collectively._

_Signed, Hestia Hesperus_


	3. The Very Secret Room

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* * *

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_**Chapter Three: The Very Secret Room

* * *

**_

**_A_**s it turned out, Professor Dumbledore had to speak with Hestia and Irene both. What it was about, he wouldn't divulge in his letter, but it must have been quite important seeing as how he had just invited himself for evening dinner.

Not even in the Hesperus Mansion were pleasurable visits made by Albus Dumbledore common, which was why Hestia was feeling rather apprehensive. The entire talking-over-dinner bit eased her mind only the slightest because, she reasoned, what he had to say certainly wasn't _too_ bad that it couldn't be said over pickled soup.

It was just as Hestia and Irene stayed behind after supper to help Marmie and Biddy clean the empty pots and pans (which didn't take very long, considering one simple charm placed by Marmie could do the trick) when more about the Headmaster's visit began to unfold.

"----Before, when he came just a few weeks ago, it was in the middle of the night!" Hestia was saying as she watched her sister place a Freezing Charm on a container of leftover peas and stick it in the food cupboard. It was magically charmed to fit all sizes of foods and could accommodate them all at different temperatures.

She went on, "I mean to say that Albus always takes preliminary caution when he divulges information to anyone. What he confided to me in June must have been----"

Hestia was interrupted by Irene's interjection. "But he included me in his letter as well, Hestia. I know he's always had a soft spot for you, but there's not that much he would need to tell _me_ unless it was important...although I was Head Girl in my year and you never were..."

Irene rumpled her golden curly hair. When she removed her hand, it fell back into its natural, gorgeous waves that cascaded to her shoulders. Hestia had always thought it a bit unfair that her older sister could be a complete wreck and still look beautiful. The sisters had both inherited their mother's curly hair, which Irene had then passed onto her three of her own children, but Irene's hair fell naturally into big, soft golden rings. Hestia's hair, on the other hand, was a lot darker---almost black---a lot curlier, and a lot wilder...though that did have something to do with the fact that she hadn't brushed it in days.

Irene sighed wearily and leaned against the counter, unaware of Hestia staring at her absent-mindedly. "I'm just worried...what if it has to do with John? What if something happened to him in the Caribbean? What if----"

Marmie stuck her wand into her bun and turned onto Irene, the cupboard doors closing magically behind her. "Irene, I honestly don't think that Dumbledore would tell ye tha' your husband's dyin' while piggin' on my homemade fudge!" she smiled kindly at her.

Irene relaxed a bit and smiled sadly back at the cook. Near her elbow a bright yellow towel was shining the last of the glass cup, nearly cracking it in its own haste to get every smudge. When Marmie moved away out of the kitchen, it fell to the counter, motionless once more.

Hestia crossed the kitchen and put an arm around her sister comfortingly.

"Cheer up, you. I am _positive_ that nothing is wrong with John. He will come home in a month's time and you all will have the time of your life up in Aviemore, just as he had promised. I've never gone skiing before, but I'm sure it'll be great! You guys really need this vacation...you've earned it. And," she went on cheerfully, "You'll be able to see Jason, Vicky, and the kids! We haven't seen them since Christmas...I bet Geoffrey has grown taller..." Hestia said.

Irene leaned against her younger sister and placed her head on Hestia's shoulder. She was grateful for Hestia for purposely helping her take her mind off of John.

" He's five months older than them," she joined in. "And Isabel as well...oh that girl is so crazy! She was bouncing off the walls, do you remember? And then Tobias tried telling her that there was no Father Christmas!" Irene laughed.

"Aahh, yes...how could I forget? She said that she had proof he was real and ran back with a picture of _Albus_!" Hestia chuckled appreciatively.

Irene stopped laughing long enough to choke out, "Well, he did look a bit like him in that picture, I'm sure...to a seven-year-old girl, in any case. With those crimson robes on and standing next to a crippled deer Hagrid found in the Forest...Tobias was rolling on the floor laughing, and I certainly thought that he was going to say something awful to her. Ah, but then he got up, as cool as you please, and told her that it looked like St. Nick had finally decided to go on a diet! With a straight-face, too, I might add!"

Hestia and Irene strolled out of the kitchen and down the deserted hall. There were pictures covering the walls with Hesperus ancestors snoring loudly or having whispered conversations with the paintings opposite. The bright sun shone happily through the many windows, and one window landed on a red cushiony couch where three cats appeared to be sleeping lazily.

Hestia and Irene strolled out of the kitchen and down the deserted hall. There were pictures covering the walls with Hesperus ancestors snoring loudly or else having whispered conversations with the paintings opposite. The bright sun shone happily through the many windows, streams of light landing on a red cushiony couch where three Kneazles appeared to be sleeping lazily.

Hestia wandered over to the couch in the spacious front room, which was decorated in its usual cheerful colors. The sisters' great-uncle Haverington had been a stouthearted Gryffindor and furnished his mansion readily enough with crimson, brown, and gold colors. When he passed it down to Hestia, she could barely squeeze in more color in the second and third floors. She left the ground floor the same, though…it just seemed like home to her.

Irene sat down next to Hestia, scooping Typsy up and plopping him onto her lap. The yellowish-white Kneazle stretched his small limbs and snuggled sleepily, purring as she rubbed his stomach.

"Where did everyone run off to?" Irene asked.

"Well, I saw Old William mutter off outside to finish his pruning. He wanted to show Balfour something…oh, I don't know! Something to do with that hedge, he said….and the kids ran off somewhere…did you see them when they finished their lunch? They huddled together, whispering, and glancing at us every now and then…"

"And then the second you turn your back on them, they're gone, making you wonder '_What in the _world_ are they up to?'" _Irene finished for her, laughing, "I know, I know…I get that all the time. I seriously don't know _who_ they get that from, Hestia! You know John and I were never like that! In our family always you were the schemer and the troublemaker. Jason always concentrated on his marks so that he could become an Auror and I was too busy trying to be perfect! And yet, my twins…ohh…and I know they didn't get it from their father, either!" She added.

Hestia reached over to stroke Gypsy on the armrest. "Yes, you told me during his childhood, John was constantly being dragged into one thing or another by his brother…I thought John seemed to be the quieter type. Has he always been like that?"

Irene frowned a bit, remembering back to the old days at Hogwarts…she and John had been prefects when Hestia first started, and both of them had been the pride and joy of their mothers. Irene had suspected that John's brother was jealous of him when John got the role of prefect, and then Head Boy. But it wasn't his brother or his mother John had the problem of the attention of----it was his father, who had always seemed to favor the other boy. John and his brother both worked for their father in one of his expensive lines of shops when they became old enough and though John tried everything to please his father, nothing worked.

Irene always suspected that this was the main reason for why John was so guarded. That and what had happened when they had both graduated…

"Irene?" Hestia interrupted her thoughts.

Hestia, in fact, had been watching her sister, instantly biting her previous words as soon as she had said them. She was supposed to be steering Irene away from her husband's situation, not towards him!

She blurted out, "Er, Balfour and I were wondering what you guys were planning on doing for Christmas?"

Irene blinked. "But that's months away! I really haven't thought that far…I mean the children don't have anyone on their father's side for us to have Christmas dinner with, and since we all had a party last year, I thought they probably needed a quiet one this time. Why?"

Hestia flushed and looked down, not meeting her sister's eyes. "O-oh, Balfour and I were just talking, and it turns out that his mother had called and was just gushing about her plans for this winter (you know how she is, always planning ahead and making assumptions for everything) and, anyway, she wanted to throw a big party. So big, in fact, that she wouldn't be able to accommodate them all, so she asked me if she could throw it _here_!"

Irene blew her cheeks out, "Wow…but she would organize it all, of course? I mean, she can't expect you to do everything! But let's not talk about that now…it's _July_."

She reached over to the side-table and picked up her knitting. She was making a new blanket for Evan, since his old one was obviously very worn out, and instead of buying one or charming her needles like every other witch, Irene wanted to do it the old-fashioned Muggle way. So far, as she held it in her hands, the soft, periwinkle fabric fell down three feet over her lap. Hestia watched as she started clicking away.

"How long will it be?"

"I plan on making it full-size, actually. You know how he loves to wrap himself in these things. At the rate I'm going, it should be ready in time winter." Irene counted her stitches for a moment than set off again, clicking madly.

Hestia relaxed back on the couch; looking out of the window and watching Lord Balfour and Old William as they conversed near the gatehouse by the hedge. Some might say that it was a bit loud for a conversation; Old William was twirling his arms around in the air, his cane having long fallen, and shouting in his old Scottish brogue. She wasn't even going to guess what he could possibly be on about now.

Irene's clicking slowed considerably as she looked to see what her sister was gazing out of the window for. Irene, too, watched the tall Baron…but she was too busy considering a thought in her head to actually pay attention to what it was they were arguing for.

"Speaking of husbands…" She started saying slowly, "I know that you never had the intent while you were working on your career, Hestia, but now that you have all of the money and time that you need, wouldn't you say it's about time you…"

Hestia's gaze shifted from the window to her older sister, who had her eyebrows raised and questioning. She didn't say anything for a while. Instead she twisted her fingers and studied her hands.

"I think," Hestia began after a while had passed; seriously contemplating what she was about to say. "I think that it would be hard for me to find a man to settle down with. I've always watched you and John, and Jason and Vicky, and I've watched all of your children grow up, and I…"

She suddenly looked up at Irene, eyes pleading, "I want that, Irene, I do…but ever since I first published _Munificence _a year and a half ago, and ever since _Harmony _came out in January, there has been at least one paragraph about me in every issue of the _Daily Prophet _since! I mean----" Hestia stood up and started pacing the room.

Irene followed her with her eyes as Hestia walked around, one hand on her forehead and one on her hip. Irene thought that she suddenly looked very exhausted.

"I mean to say, Irene, that finding a man would be a lot harder if more than half of them didn't want to just marry me for my money! I'd always known I'd never be able to marry for love…you know how I am, always the one to lead and not follow, blurting my thoughts out to the world…men want women who make them feel masculine, Irene_. I've _always been the one to make them feel like the lowest organisms on the planet! I've always been like that, always…" She trailed off, searching for the right word.

"Strong-headed?" Irene fished out for her, still watching her intently.

"Exactly." Hestia threw herself down next to her sister, exhausted. Always the dramatist, Irene thought fondly. And she knew that her sister was right…Hestia had always been one of those girls who would be out there playing Quidditch with the guys instead of waiting on the sidelines, rushing in to kiss them better when they got hurt. The boys in her year, instead, had had to suffer her wrath when they didn't perform up to her standards. Moreover, Hestia would sometimes deflate a bit to actually wonder whether it was because of this and her ability to always play with the guys rather than flirt with them that made her who she was today.

Thirty years old----retired Head of Department, with two best-selling books, a vault full of thousands of Galleons she worked hard for, and a mansion with plenty of room----and still single.

Irene put a hand on Hestia's forehead. Perhaps it was her instincts as a mother, or perhaps it was just because she grew up being the older sister of the wild Hestia Hesperus, but Irene could tell that Hestia was seriously wearing herself out.

Outside, Old William stormed off, leaving Balfour standing speechless and shaking his head.

Hestia leaned over to put her head in Irene's lap, tucking her legs underneath her and closing her eyes. Irene smoothed her sister's dark curls from her flushed face with practiced ease and a cool hand. She studied Hestia's features.

Buckwheat, who had recently been lounging on the back of the couch, was caught off-guard by this sudden shift of weight and he toppled out of sight. In the distance a door closed and loud footsteps echoed down the hall.

The two sisters sat unaware of anything outside of their own little bubble.

The Baron, however, was very aware and, what was more----he was furious.

So furious, in fact, that after he slammed the door and stomped down the hall to the cozy paneled room where Irene and Hestia were, he couldn't even find the words to tell them exactly what that Old William Rhum was.

He sat down on a straight-backed chair next to a large roll top desk that held every single one of the many, many letters Hestia had received after publication. He tore off the lacings of his large boots in his haste to get them untied. When he had finally succeeded, fuming the entire time, he furiously wrenched them off, throwing them to the ground where they lay, dejected.

This done, he couldn't bear sitting anymore, so he stood up, accidentally knocking over his chair, and started walking back and forth behind the couch where the Irene was crocheting and Hestia was laying with her head on her sister's lap, rubbing her temples.

Perhaps this was an effort to drown out the loud noises the Baron was making...but if it was, it wasn't working very well.

Pacing across the room was quite relaxing when one was frustrated. Especially if it only took you seven gigantic strides to cross from one end to the other; and with the Baron, Lord Balfour...well, when he was mad it didn't even take seven.

Lord Balfour Marjoribanks was a tall man. One could even say he was large, but with him it was all muscle. He stood six feet, nine inches respectfully and with his enormous black boots that laced all the way up to his knees, he looked even more foreboding. His long, wavy auburn hair was always drawn back into a low ponytail to keep it out of his face when he was working with his plants. He had intense yet twinkling brown eyes and the most adorable grin...yes, the Baron was an incredibly handsome man and had made many girls swoon when he was younger. But he had never been interested in them. Who would when there were Venomous Tentaculas, Snapping Dragonworts, and Devil's Snares to charm instead?

Ever since Lord Balfour could remember, his heart had been stolen by green foliage and poisonous flowers. When he turned eleven and entered Hogwarts, he could never keep himself away from the magical greenhouses and vowed that when he older, he would own a hundred of them. It was fortunate that Professor Sprout was his Head of House and a kind lady because if she had taken points off for all the times she caught him sneaking in at night to make sure the Shrivelfigs were growing well, he would have been the least-liked in his House.

Eventually, his pacing calmed him down long enough for him to mutter a string of incoherent words. Once in a while, Irene would catch something like "...Stubborn, beastly Scotsman..." or "...Expects me to fix all his problems..." or even a "...Makes me wish I could shove that garden spade up his----" to which Irene finally interrupted with a----

"_Lord Balfour_!"

He started, suddenly remembering he wasn't alone. His hair was unusually crazy and disheveled from his clutching it in annoyance and Irene thought he looked quite funny in his sweeping blue robes and bare feet.

"Well I do!" He said in defense. He crossed over and fell into an armchair opposite theirs. "I did him the decency of defrosting his precious potatoes last winter and now he wants me to fix everything else for him! I don't see how I am going to manage that with everything else on my list. I'm trying to keep the Mandrakes from screaming each other to death, my Violets need plotting and the European Womgnats need repotting, and I still need to go to Hogwarts to have a look at the Whomping Willow. Not to mention my trip to Chili to rid them of their large infestation of Poisondung Ivy, which has to be done by the fourteenth, or else..."

The list went on and on. As one of the higher members of the Wizarding International Botanical Society----W. I. B. S. for short----Lord Balfour Marjoribanks was a busy man.

While he continued his rant, Irene whispered in her younger sister's ear. "Do you still think it would be a good idea to be married?"

Hestia smothered a smile as she replied, "All thoughts have flown clean from my mind!"

Ten minutes later, they were actually having a decent conversation. Lord Balfour abruptly stood, walking over towards Hestia and kneeling down. Once his anger had cleared, he noticed she was looking quite pale despite the sunlight falling across her face. There were beads of perspiration and her lips were cracked with the lack of moisture.

"Hestia? Are you feeling alright?" He asked her gently. During the conversation she had closed her eyes and her head was still lying on her sister's lap.

At his voice, her eyes snapped open and she bolted upright.

"Of course I am! Don't I look it?" She snapped.

Balfour smirked at her, "Actually, no. Perhaps you should lay down, it's not like you've had any sleep at all the past few weeks!"

Hestia rubbed her face vigorously. "It's just my story. I am nearly through with it...I'm just at a difficult part right now, trying to get to the last chapter and all. What I need, in fact, is a good stroll outside. It is marvelous and I intend to enjoy it."

She stood up and Balfour joined her.

"Irene, where's Evander? He was going to accompany me, he said," Hestia looked out the window to see if any of the children happened to be hiding in the bushes or the trees.

Balfour blinked, remembering his own due engagement, "And I still need to plant the Violent Violets but I haven't seen Morgan since she zipped out of the room after we finished eating. Where have they all gotten to?"

Irene just sat there, crocheting away with the slightest smile on her face, as though she knew something they didn't know.

"I don't even know why you're asking," she said. "I gave up ages ago. They'll make themselves known when they want to be found. After all, they must be somewhere in the Mansion..."

* * *

In the Hesperus Mansion there was a room. It was on the third floor of the eastern rampant, fourth window from the vine-covered corner, and it was a secret room…or that is, it _was _until four children discovered it not but two days from their first arrival.

They had come across it quite by accident, so confused they were at first by the many unexpected twists and turns permeating the very existence of the Mansion. They opened a small door at the end of the hall thinking they had come upon a dumbwaiter when a room suddenly opened up unto them.

They were instantly intrigued and sent Evander through, because he was the only one small enough to fit through the opening and because they didn't have Dingy handy (he was taking his bath for rolling in the mud earlier).

When he first crawled into the small, very dusty room, Evander was strongly reminded of the attic at their house in Kent. There was a small hole in the wall----one could not even call it a window----which a dingy ray of sunlight squeezing through to shine on feathery cobwebs draping from the ceiling to the door. The walls and floor were made of wood and there were shelves hiding underneath the ceiling, not too far above his head. Evander poked about the rusty metal cauldrons and loose leaves of paper scattered about the floor, but other than that, there was nothing else in there.

In the opening, Tobias, Alexandra, and Morgan had been craning to get better looks at this secret place when Tobias' elbow bumped into a hidden lever, making the small door slam shut, narrowly missing Morgan's face. Stunned, they started pounding on the door yelling for Evan.

But Evan, on his side of the wall, had found another way out. When the small door had shut, there was a loud creak and a strange groaning that resonated throughout the tiny room and a few boards gave way on the wall behind him, revealing the mustiest stairway Evan had ever seen. Thus, he stepped onto it, descending the old, creaky boards that winded their spiraling way downward until they stopped at a dirty wooden wall.

Now, Evander was only four years old at the time, and though it was a bit of an adventure at first, he was now quite tired and hungry and very dirty indeed, wanting very much to just get out of this strange tunnel and have lunch. He started to turn around to go back up the staircase again when he suddenly spotted a pink-eyed white rat and gave a startled yelp.

In the wide entrance hall, Irene was just passing through, shuffling a stack of yellowed parchment when she heard his small yelp and a bang as something heavy fell. But the next second, Balfour yelled in pain and swore loudly in the next room and she thought the noise she heard had come from the next room, so she rushed in to see what the matter was.

When Evander yelled at the rat, he was scared yet again by the wall behind him giving out and as he swiveled around to stare at the darkly gaping opening, then brooms, mops, and dustpans suddenly fell on top of him. When he finally untangled himself from these moldy cleaning supplies, he walked through them, opened yet another door, and walked though his fourth and final mysterious doorway. He was quite surprised when he found that he was facing the front door.

So as it turned out, the children found that the small door at the end of the corridor on the third floor led to a small room, and that small room led to a staircase. The staircase, in turn, led to a wall, which turned out to be the back of the broom closet on the ground floor next to the entrance hall, which of course was a part of the Hesperus Mansion.

Tobias, Alexandra, and Morgan were very confused when they were still pounding on the wall five minutes later, providing an enormous racket when they heard a voice behind them ask what they were shouting for. There Evander stood looking every bit a mess but very curious as to what his older siblings were doing, acting like lunatics.

And that was why, on the seventh of July in the year 1991, the four missing children of John and Irene Rosier were _not_ to be found by anyone who wished to know where they were hiding in a very secret room.

Of course, it does not explain why they were sitting on the floor around a musty cauldron, whose nasty orange content was bubbling and seething over a small fire. Nor does it quite explain the fact that one of their number had just giggled mischievously. Also, it doesn't really expound upon the fact that scattered around them were a few empty candy wrappers, a mallet, a kitchen knife and several other utensils, and dozen bottles and jars half-filled with slimy substances, powdered essences, and other nasty-smelling things. In addition, nestled in a cobweb corner next to the smallest boy lay a brightly glittering stuffed turtle.

Alexandra peered into the cauldron and wrinkled her nose. "One would think that a potion with as many good candies as this one would smell a bit nicer."

Tobias shook his head and carefully measured out a teaspoon of powered Womgnat, stirring it into the cauldron with a narrow, black stick.

"Turn the fire down a tad, Alexa," he ordered his twin, who would have grumbled if it hadn't been for the fact that if she did complain instead of adjusting the flames, the potion would explode in their faces.

Their six-year-old sister was telling Evander excitedly about the new plant Uncle Balfour had recently imported from Africa. When she came to the part about the horrible smell it emitted, he delightfully let out of one his cute infectious laughs, making Tobias and Alexandra grin at each other over the potion fumes.

"Hey you guys," Tobias motioned his brother and sister closer. "It's nearly ready. We just need to keep it stirring for another half hour and add everythin' else in after that. Than I'll cork it all up and serve it with tea!"

"You sure it'll work, Tobe?" Alexandra asked him, somewhat doubtfully. Tobias was usually the one to think up the plan and he was a mastermind, really, but there had been several instances in which their exploits had abysmally failed. "After all, you did make this potion up, you know."

Her brother grinned, undaunted, "It's gonna work. Trust me. It's just a simple Sleeping Draught, but instead of adding the periwinkle, crushed sleeper fins, and beetle legs, these three ingredients right here should do the trick!

"See," He continued in a practiced voice, "In Fizzing Whizbees, there are a coupled ingredients which make you levitate when you put them together----sort of like a Levitation Potion, except that the effects aren't nearly so strong and it doesn't last quite as long. So I turned them to a liquid to make them blend and added a third-forth a cup (the same as periwinkle, really). Then next went the powdered Pepper Imps, but I had to _individually_ take out the sugar crystals because it wouldn't work otherwise."

Alexandra just looked at him with one eyebrow raised and shook her head. Tobias patted the candy wrappers satisfactorily and went about stirring the slimy orange liquid. As he stirred, the potion slowly changed to a duller, brownish color, which strongly reminded him of a rotten orange he found under his bed once.

Morgan and Evan's talking, meanwhile, had taken quite another turn. Morgan was apparently trying to convince Evan that unicorn plants were real, and he refused to believe her. He was having a hard time picturing a plant that looked just like a unicorn but it was green, which wasn't right because unicorns weren't green. He saw one in a picture his mother had shown him once and it didn't look like a plant, either…

Just then, there was a scurrying sound accompanied by creaks and scratches. The next second, the house-elf, Dingy, appeared in his tiny, hand-sewn clothes and clutching a stitch in his side from running up the hidden staircase.

"I's come, Toby! I's come but was very much distrackleted coz of Marmie wanting to have a talks…somethings to do with Dungbombs, methinks," Dingy said all of this quite breathlessly in his funnily squeaky voice.

Tobias nodded and Dingy plopped down next to Morgan, wiping his small forehead comically.

"All right," Alexandra cleared her throat loudly so that Morgan and Evan would stop their bickering and look at her. "Good. You said it would be ready in an hour Toby?"

Tobias nodded once more and she continued, mostly talking to Morgan, Evan, and Dingy because they probably couldn't remember what their secret missions were. They were only children after all, whereas she and Tobias were full-grown nine-year-olds and therefore quite capable of remembering. Tobias had just invented his first potion! And Alexandra had successfully accomplished something no one thought could ever be done.

"Right, then. We're gonna have to keep them out of the way for the next few hours. You told Toby that you and Aunt Hestia are going to go for a walk, Evan?" She asked.

Evander gave one nod, a small smile on his face.

Alexandra grinned broadly at him, "Perfect! So that takes care of her…but what about Uncle Balfour…?"

Morgan brightened up at this. "Me'n'him are gonna plant the Violent Violets! It might take a while…they're squeamish things, those."

Alexandra stood up, pacing. The younger kids eyes, including Dingy's, followed her. Tobias had to switch hands because his right one was about to fall off from stirring the draught constantly.

"Well, Mum should be easy…"Alexandra went on slowly. "After all, she'll prob'ly just go to the drawing room and mope, like she always does when Dad's gone. I think that it's just Marmie, Old William, and Biddy we'll have to look after, then…Er, can you get past Marmie while she's cooking, Toby? I don't think we'll be able to get her out of there, not when she knows we've got company now."

Tobias said doubtfully, "I really don't know...she can get awful possesive of her cooking when we've got company...and it'll take a while, no doubt, to change everything once she gets going..."

Dingy suddenly stood up onto his tippy-toes, stretching his hand into the air and waving madly. Even at his full height he was barely taller than a squatting Evander.

"Dingy nose! Dingy nose!" He said excitedly.

"You know what?" Tobias said.

"Dingy nose how to distrackle Marmie! I does, I really do!" Dingy ceased waving his hand now that he had everybody's attention. He lifted up his little chin and said proudly, "Dingy has gotten nastily ideas, yessir! An idea with climbing up treeses and making distrackletions for Marmie and Old Williamer's to be very nicely distrackled! Dingy can do it!"

There was a mischievous glint in Tobias' eye as he nodded vigorously. "You'll do it, don't worry, Dingy. I have just what you need...it'll be perfect!"

The four kids grinned, though for four different reasons. Tobias grinned because of the imp he was; Evander grinned because they were doing something secret and fun and he loved those two words, though he didn't quite understand what Dingy and Tobias were planning. Morgan grinned because she did know what Dingy was going to do, and she had front row seats. And Alexandra grinned because they were going to cause lovely mayhem, and because it was the exact sort of mess in which people laughed and applauded you for your brilliance and not ground you...and also because this left her with Mum, and she had a very important question she wanted to ask her.

It was at this point when Tobias' left hand grew very tired and developed cramps. As Morgan, Evan, and Dingy were going on excitedly about what was going to happen at dinner that night, Tobias motioned Alexandra over.

"Did you get it?" He muttered.

"Nope. Aunt Hestia made me hand it over on my way out----I really don't know how she does it----!" Alexandra said.

Tobias interrupted with a howl. "You mean I have to keep stirring that thing for half an hour? I've only been stirring for five and my arms are about to fall off! How inMerlin's name am I gonna----"

He suddenly stopped when he saw the look on his sister's face.

"What?" he asked suspiciously.

Alexandra was wearing a smirk not unlike his own when he knew something that others didn't.

"If you had let me finish talking, I would have told you that I really don't know how she can lecture me about stealing people's wands when they aren't looking, and not even notice that while she was talking, I had swiped this!" Then from behind her back she produced a long, dark wand with a flourish.

Not every hug is out of affection.

* * *

_A/N: Ha! So what do you think so far? So sorry for having this one done so late! I have been confined to my bed and room...something which, I am sure you all know, I dislike very much! _

_Please review! They keep me going and I enjoy them immensely! _

_Cheers! Happy Holidays!_


	4. For the Love of Doxies

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_Chapter Four: For the Love of Doxies_

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It took a while for Tobias to get over the fact that his sister had swiped Hestia Hesperus' wand. Their Aunt Hestia was considered by many in the wizarding world to be one of the elite, the best wizards and witches who lived, and yet a nine-year-old witch had been able to deprive her of her second strongest weapon. Her strongest, of course, was her brilliant mind.

Thus, Tobias cast away the wretched stirring stick, and with this stolen ivy wand of twelve inches, containing the plumy feather of a phoenix, he proceeded to perform a simple spell on the cauldron.

In fact, the twins had been practicing this very spell for days. It was Marmie's favorite spell, excellent for times when she had to stir a boiling pot while visiting the loo, mending a nasty burn, or simply walking out to the cabbage patch to unearth a few more heads. The twins had watched Marmie doing it countless times and were positive it would work for them.

It was quite simple. They'd studied the movements and worked out the incantation. They had never done it with a wand before this, though.

Tobias held the wand in his hand and licked his lips. The first time he performed the spell on the potion, nothing happened. He cleared his throat nervously and tried again. This time, the surface of the potion followed his movements rather vigorously, splashing over the side.

Alexandra jumped away just in time. "I think you're making the sweep too wide," she said. "It should be more circular."

By now, Morgan, Evander, and Dingy were all watching with interest.

Tobias gritted his teeth and performed the spell for the last time. Morgan and Evan cheered when the cauldron's contents began to swirl around the inside, stirring themselves successfully.

Their cheers stopped abruptly when Alexa and Tobias, as one, moved to clamp their hands over their younger siblings' mouths.Just outside the hidden room, they could hear Aunt Hestia and Uncle Balfour calling their names.

The four children stood, stock-still, listening intently. Had Hestia and Balfour heard them? Did they know where they were?

They heard Hestia speak to Balfour, right next to the dumbwaiter door, far too close for their liking. "That's funny…I was so sure I heard them."

Uncle Balfour's voice answered her.It was a low rumble that had always scared them when they were very small. "Well, they have to be somewhere. More likely than not, they're playing a game of hide-and-seek. You know they can hide for hours at a time, blast it! I can't just do this without Morgan…she really wanted to help me with this one."

Hestia's ringing gale of laughter startled the children a bit. "I think you need her for moral support! Morgan told me about this plant.It has…what is it again? The most disgusting smell on the face of the earth? What are you going to do, pile dung around it with one hand while holding your nose with the other?"

In the dusty room, the four kids and Dingy shifted uncomfortably while their aunt and 'uncle' held their amiable conversation right outside the thin wall. Morgan, tired of having her older brother's hand tight over her mouth, started squirming. A second later, she stuck her tongue out and licked him on his palm.

Tobias yelped and jumped away from her, nearly falling over the churning cauldron. He wrinkled his nose in disgust, then froze as he realized, too late, just how loud his yelp had been. Hestia and Balfour had stopped speaking abruptly.

If Alexandra's hand weren't covering Evander's mouth so tightly, he would have giggled. Alexandra, unfortunately, did.

Both parties stood frozen on either side of the wall, listening intently. Hestia and Balfour knew that what they heard was definitely the children, but where they were exactly, the adults didn't know. The children held their breaths and strained their ears, hoping the adults would just think that what they had heard was only a mouse or a closet ghoul and go away. Then they could sneak back down the hidden staircase and out the cupboard and intercept them on the first floor.

It seemed like forever to the children until their aunt and uncle decided to move on in their search; their footsteps echoed as they walked away and down the corridor, and the children relaxed with sighs of relief.

In reality, though, it had only been a minute.

While Hestia and Balfour were upstairs looking for Tobias, Alexa, Morgan, and Evan, Irene headed to the door to search outside. She crossed the entrance hall and had just opened the door when there was a loud racket behind her. She turned and found her missing children. Bright-eyed and grimy, tousle-haired and quite breathless, they leaned heavily against a closet door. A few brooms and mops clattered to the floor beside them.

Irene cocked an eyebrow. "What were you doing in the broom cupboard?" she asked suspiciously.

Evan looked up at Morgan from his sprawling position on the floor. Morgan swiveled around to look at her sister. Alexandra casually picked a sticky cobweb out of her hair while raising her own eyebrows at her twin, nodding at him to answer their mum.

When he didn't say anything, Alexa said loudly, "Very good question, Toby. Why were we in the closet? I can't really remember."

He glared at her, then turned to Irene, plastering a smile on his face. "We were playing Magical Murder, actually, Mum. It's best if you play it in the dark, you see, and Morgan and Evan really weren't scared at all!"

Irene glanced over at her two youngest, who all looked up at her and smiled innocently. She then turned back to Tobias; his jaunty grin was definitely too jaunty. Alexandra seemed preoccupied with examining the hem of her crimson shirt, down to the very last stitch.

Something was definitely up. Irene crossed her arms over her summer blue dress and glared at her children. "I had better know what you four are up to by the end of the day. You understand?"

They nodded hurriedly, beaming, and a smile spread across Irene's own face. You could never trust a conspirator or a daredevil, but the other two were such angels they could all get away with anything. And they all were so adorable, really, no matter how mischievous.

"I think you all could do with a bath!" she exclaimed and they immediately groaned in protest. "But I think a simple wash in the sink will have to do. You four are covered in dust and dirt and cobwebs and---Toby, stand still, you've got a spider on your shoulder----"

Tobias spotted it and cupped it in his hand. "Hey there, little guy," he said to it softly.

"He's not exactly little, is he?" Alexandra peered at the black spider, which _did_ look a bit larger than usual.

"Let me see! Let me see!"

Tobias lowered his hand so Morgan could peer at it, too. "How d'you know he's not a girl?" she asked affronted.

"You just know these things when you're nine, Mory," Tobias said. He ignored Alexandra rolling her eyes at him.

"Oh. What are you gonna name him, then?" Morgan squirmed away from her mother, who was trying to dust off her dirty white dress.

"Morgan! Hold still, baby!" Irene sighed, exasperated. "We need to wash you up. Balfour's looking for you, he wants you to help him in the greenhouse. If you want to plant something with him, you need to change your clo----"

"Yes! Yes! I do! We're gonna plant the Violent Violet! I have to help him!" She jumped up and down excitedly.

Irene laughed. "All right then! Come on!"

She and her dirty children all set off to the kitchens, Tobias now letting his spider explore on his arm and Morgan telling her mother all about the Violet (keeping out, of course, the part about it being on the kitchen table with their food). Evander walked on his mother's other side, holding her hand contentedly. He was his mother's baby…well, everyone's baby, really.

Alexandra trailed behind them, looking at the paintings on the wall. She could have sworn as she walked past them that one of the pictures featuring an old hag carrying a harp had moved a bit. It startled her, because the paintings were magical pictures, of course, and the frames were permanently stuck to the wall with some charm or another; so why would the frame jump an inch or so to the left, closer to a Ravenclaw tapestry?

She shook her head and walked faster to keep up with her brothers and sister, thinking it was just her imagination. She ran up to Tobias, who was debating on what to name his new 'pet'.

"I think he looks like a Warwick, actually." She peered at the spider on her twin's arm.

Tobias cocked his head to the side studying it. "You're right," he said. "He looks awfully like a Warwick…don't tell me how, though."

Irene looked at the twins. "Why Warwick?"

"Because," Alexandra answered decisively, "in a story I'm writing, Warwick is the name of an old dwarf who helps Phyllida fight off the robbers that have come to steal her mother's famous heirloom. Warwick has black hair, you see, with white highlights, and he's pretty round. Toby's spider just looks like Warwick, that's all."

"I see…" Irene said, just as Morgan asked, "Who's Phi-lee-da?"

Alexandra sighed. "You'll see. I'm only on the ninth chapter, and Phyllida just lost her third wand, so she's off to…what is that old guy's name again, Mum?"

"Ollivander's," Irene replied promptly.

"Yeah, him. I'll have to remember that for when evil Marcus steals her seventh."

* * *

Up in her grand bathroom, Hestia turned the hot water off and stepped out of the shower with a fluffy red towel wrapped around her, feeling much better for it.

She and Balfour had found Morgan and Evan in the kitchen, washing their hands and faces. Once she saw her 'uncle', Morgan let out a shriek and tore out of the kitchen and up the stairs. Apparently she had been told to change out of her play-dress by her mother.

With much griping, Balfour had proclaimed he might just as well go help out "that useless Scotsman" while he was waiting for Morgan to change. Irene, meanwhile, thought that it would be best if Hestia bathed and changed her robes before she went out in public. So leaving Evander to play with Tobias and Warwick the spider for fifteen minutes, Hestia left.

It felt so good to wash off the dirt and grime of the past couple of days. She buttoned up a dark blue blouse and pulled on some very Muggle jeans for their walk in Glasgow. Absent-mindedly walking to her small balcony, she pushed aside the silk curtains and pulled open the glass doors.

Below, Tobias was coaching Warwick to do things, making Evander laugh excessively. Morgan was heading towards Balfour and Old William, who were crouched next to the hedge beside the gatehouse.

Back in her room, Hestia rummaged through her drawer for something to pull her hair back into and her fingers stumbled upon a pleasing white barrette she had never worn before. This was lucky, for Hestia's mind was churning again and she had no idea what she was putting on.

She had fallen once more into her story _The Tempest_. The last scene she had written before upending the saltshaker took place on the dock of Bowman's Isle, near the Bristol Channel. The night was dark and stormy with a fierce wind and pounding rain. A lone figure stood in the dark, searching frantically for any sign of his friends, the Grangers, and the boat. Behind him, an eerie green light hovered above the island in the middle of this freakish storm.

He had known that they would leave him…in fact, he was the one who commanded David to let him deal with the Death Eaters alone, to take Neenie and run. "If I don't come back in ten minutes," he had said, "you have to get out of here, with or without me!"

And they had. He stared out into the darkness, all hope leaving him. Then he turned around, knowing as he did so that he was handing his life to his family's murderers. And that's when it happened-----

"OUCH!" Hestia yelled in pain. Her hand flew up to her face where a long bloody gash had appeared on her cheek. Above her head, a hairy, black, insect-like fairy zoomed away, cackling madly.

She had been so focused on the scene playing itself out in her head that she hadn't seen the black doxy coming. Hestia wiped her bloody hand on her red towel and dabbed some water onto her face. Feeling in her pockets for her wand, she became a bit puzzled when she couldn't find it.

_I suppose I must have left it in my other robes,_ she thought.

The wicked little doxy zoomed around on its beetle-like wings, apparently delighted at the mayhem it had caused.

Glaring at it and silently cursing, she felt around behind her for something hard to throw. It would have been far easier if she had had her wand, but since she was without it, Hestia was determined to make do with what she had.

She fumbled behind her and opened the doors to her wardrobe, feeling around the shelves. Her slender fingers closed around a glass sphere the size of a Quaffle. She brought it around in front of her, poised to aim, but paused when she saw that it was the Fore-token Orb given to her by Alastor Moody.

The Fore-token Orb was a Dark Detector that showed future danger in the very depths of its darkness. There were many wizards who thought it was pure folly because they didn't want to believe what was hidden in its center. There were others who were driven mad because of what they saw in it, locking themselves in dungeons and never coming out for fear of that something happening to them.

Since there were very few Orbs in the wizarding world and even fewer owners of them, it was quite surprising that Hestia Hesperus had one contained in her wardrobe. She herself had been astonished when Moody, then Head of the Auror Department, presented it to her ten years before, saying that she had far more need of it than he. Confused, she accepted it, but she had never in all those ten years gazed into it...

As she drew back her arm to throw the Orb, Hestia took her eyes off the doxy for one second and looked at the darkened sphere. In its swirling black contents, at the very heart, what she saw burned itself into her mind forever. There was at first the outline of a man, then he was swept away by death and fire and was replaced by four beasts, two of which had claws gleaming with blood. Next came a small blob that Hestia slowly recognized as an island with a fortress upon it, then the island dissolved, leaving merely a large castle with sweeping grounds.

Hogwarts.

Hestia wrenched her eyes away and brought her arm forward with all of her might. She hadn't been one of the best Chasers in the school for five years running for nothing. The Fore-token Orb slammed into the laughing doxy, who was about to tip an inkbottle onto the bed, and they all crashed into the wall behind them with tremendous force. There was an explosion of ink and glass as the Orb smashed into pieces, its dark essence hanging in the air above her canopied bed like a foul gas before vanishing into thin air. The doxy slid to the floor, unconscious, amid the litter of glass and ink.

Hestia stared at the mess she had made, dazed. The canopy of her king-sized bed was slashed in several places by flying glass. Her bed and rug, wardrobe and vanity, shelves, tables, and desk were all covered in splashes of ink and glass, and, Hestia saw as she looked down at herself, so was she.

_How ironic, _she thought mildly. _It seems I'm always going to be covered in ink stains…there is just no escaping from it._

Irene was going to kill her.

And so was Biddy. Trickles of blood were still running down her face, alongside her own tears. The tears startled Hestia when she looked in her vanity mirror.She hadn't been aware of crying when she looked into the Orb…

Oh, yes, the Orb. She decided that Moody was going to kill her, too. Forever seemed to pass as she stared at her reflection, until she remembered how this had all started anyway. The doxy.

"Tobias!" Hestia yelled to the open window.

A faint "_What?_" was the response.

"I have something I think you will like!"

Outside, Tobias took off running into the Mansion, past Evander, Morgan, the Baron, Old William, and a very sneaky Dingy, who were all staring up at the empty balcony curiously.

Hestia was still in the same spot when a breathless Tobias appeared in her doorway; still wearing her newly ink-splattered blouse and jeans, and still sporting a pale, bloody face.

He looked at her in alarm. "Are you all _right_, Aunt Hestia? Cause you, er, don't really look it."

Hestia dabbed a handkerchief onto her cheek, smiling weakly. "Yes, I am…really. It's just the doxy over there."

Tobias followed her pointing finger and peered at the inky doxy, who was starting to wake up. A clattering behind Hestia announced the arrival of everyone _else_ in the bloody Mansion.Their mouths fell open and Balfour, who stood nearly a full foot above everyone else, looked in at the mess and uttered a low whistle.

Biddy and Irene immediately started fussing over Hestia, ignoring her protests that she felt fine. Balfour dispatched the doxy, despite Tobias' insistance that he could tame it. Alexandra retrieved a broom and was starting to sweep when stopped by Biddy, who vanished all of the bits and pieces of glass with a single snap of her fingers. Irene scolded Morgan and Evander for standing on the bed and trying to reach the slashes made in the canopy above. Marmie conjured an ice pack for Hestia to hold on her cheek before she salved it and used a Healing Charm.

Old William just stood and watched it all, boring them with a tale of when he came across a nest full of dozens of swarming doxies attacking him. Nasty buggers, those. Was in St. Mungo's for three months while being treated for each individual venomous bite applied to him. Took the Healers forever to be able to reach the one up his-----

Hestia sighed amid the chaos. It was now, more than ever, that she needed a peaceful walk outside. When the hubbub subsided a little, Hestia took Evander's hand and slipped out of the room.

The people she left behind didn't see them leaving. They didn't see that there was something more to the scene than met the eye…or the wand. They _couldn't_ see that it wasn't the doxy at all that had frightened her.

But Evander could. He looked up at her with his very blue eyes, looking into the windows of her soul as he walked alongside her down the staircase. What he saw, Hestia could not tell…and what he saw, Evander _wouldn't_ tell.

Unnerved as she was by what she had seen in the Fore-token Orb, Hestia vowed inwardly to forget it. In the months and years to come, she would find that it wasn't that easy. But, for the love of doxies, nothing ever is.

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_Author's Note: I am terribly sorry this is a day later as well! And it isn't "Into the Greenhouses" as I had promised. That chapter has been moved up to take the place of chapter five, seeing as how I couldn't fit it in here._

_I hope you all were appreciated by the excerpt from "The Tempest" in here! The tale of the Granger family on Halloween of 1981 will be available after this current story has been written. It will be nice to take a break._

_Also, the Fore-token Orb...whatHestia saw in it **will **be important in later stories! Believe me, you will all find out in time..._

_Please review! This will be my last post until the holidays are all over and I have gotten back on my feet again. _

_Cheers! Love,_

_Hestia_


	5. Into the Greenhouses

_(Disclaimer: Anything that can be found in the Harry Potter books or HP Lexicon is not mine. I pride myself on the fact, though, that the Snapping Dragonwort and the Creeping Tentrillandus are!)_

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**_Chapter Five: Into the Greenhouses_**

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**_V_**irgilia, although she was an uncommon dog, had very little magical power. Indeed, Lord Balfour had yet to find any magic in her at all. When he had scoured the crates at the Magical Menagerie for something to keep him company while he traveled, the amber Great Dane had immediately caught his eye. Yet, what the puppy had been doing in the magical shop, Balfour had never figured out. Now, a full nine years later, it was common knowledge that most days, the two were never found apart.

On this beautiful July summer day, though, Virgilia had other things on her mind.

Lying on of the stone tablets that led up to the enormous glass doors of the Lesser Greenhouse, she appeared to be sleeping. Her legs spread out on one side of her and one of her ears fell over her face in an exhausted way.

A hawk's shrill cry echoed above the trees, startling her. She sat up, every nerve alert, but realizing it was only a bird, she lay back down again, put a paw over her eyes, and gave a very dog-like groan. Not even thirty seconds later, she had fallen back asleep…a dog's bliss.

It was, however, short-lived.

* * *

Balfour, with Morgan in tow, was just wondering what it would take to shut a girl up.

_Ah, not that I mind it, really. She does paint a flattering picture of me._

Indeed, Morgan had been for the past ten minutes. Then, with all the put-upon exaggeration of an indignant six-year-old, she managed to show her surrogate uncle just exactly what her mother had done to make her wait so impatiently to help him.

"…And then she _braided _it, Uncle Balfour, see? And it took _forever!_ And I had to wait a _long _time! So are we going to pot them now?"

He slowed so she could keep up with his long strides. They were walking across the grass to the two long greenhouses behind the Mansion.

"Yes, we are. But, first, we need to stop off at the Lesser Greenhouse. It's time to deadhead the Creeping Tentrillandus again."

"Ooh! Okay!"

There were many members in the Hesperus household who thought that Morgan took on her newfound hobby with too much enthusiasm; and as much as he loved his own hobby and job, Balfour had to agree with them.

Virgilia could hear Morgan's squeals a mile off. She immediately sat up, her tail wagging; she loved the Rosier children ---- though the twins were a bit too much for her ---- and would guard them to the death, just as she would her own master. By the time Balfour and his charge were at the doors, the faithful dog was waiting to follow them inside.

Though they didn't look very big from the outside, both greenhouses were enormous. The glass roof of the Lesser reached to a peak high above their heads, about half as tall as the Mansion itself. There were rows of plants of every color and size. Odd flowers bloomed ecstatically, and rare herbs gave off mixed odors in the shyer half of the building. Ferns in large pots giggled and squirmed when they passed, daffodils honked rather loudly, blue roses opened in the sunlight and other fenced-off bushes tried to disentangle their knotty branches, tugging quite furiously as they did so.

One vine in particular was growing extremely fast. It covered the far wall completely and was now creeping along the skylights, trying to peek out of an open window. Morgan could see the ends slithering about above her head. They reminded her of the little green worms in Mum's garden at home, wriggling and looking for food. She giggled.

It was to the base of this vine that Balfour strode. Morgan followed along behind him, picking her way through the rows of potted plants. She stopped every now and then to coo at a little flower bud or stroke the ticklish ferns.

When she finally reached Uncle Balfour, he had already fed the overbearing leafy foliage a gallon of _Herby Shrub's Slow-Grow _and was now pointing his wand upwards, trimming off the dead stems and leaves, working his way down. Morgan watched him for a whole five minutes, asking questions like "Does it hurt them?" and "Are they sleeping now?" before growing bored of it and wandering away.

She made the rounds throughout the entire greenhouse, greeting her favorite plants and tucking the fertilizer dragon dung around them comfortingly. By the time she worked her way back to the door, she had saved the best for last.

In an urn to the left of the glass doors, the unicorn plant stood.

_Morgan's _unicorn plant.

Its beak-like white flowers poked out lovingly, as though they were just waiting for the girl to kiss them.

Which she did. Then she sat down to greet each flower individually with the names she had given them when they first opened their little petals.

"My, you're quite bright today, Hestia, dear," She cooed at the one on the top. "And John! I haven't seen you for a long, long time. Did you have a good nap, Johnny?"

But much to her combined dismay and pleasure, there appeared to be a new bud just breaking out between Marmie and Toby. She was very happy about it, to be sure, but she was also running out of names.

"Hmmm, let's see now…I think you look like a…boy! What shall I name you, my little man?"

Though she just couldn't think of anything that suited him. Charles wouldn't work…neither would Harold…and he didn't look like a Benjamin, either…

"Uncle Balfour, what should I name my little baby?" she called across the room.

Balfour raised his eyebrows.

_I shouldn't ask, _he decided.

"Girl or boy?" he finally answered.

"Itsa boy! A white one! But grayish, too. An' I'm all outa names! Is there anyone you know in purticalur?"

Balfour thought for a moment and then grinned. "Does he look like an Albus?"

Morgan scrutinized her flower, and brightened. "Yes! Yes, he does! Thanks!"

Uncle Balfour just laughed in return.

Morgan went back to loving her little babies. "Oh, you're a sweet little flower baby! Yes, baby Albus you are! And _Vanny_…!"

* * *

After the fiasco in Hestia's room, things went back to what passed for normal.

Balfour and Tobias had successfully got rid of that doxy, after Tobias had tried and failed numerous times to tame it and make it one of his pets. After a lot of compromising, and an agreement with Irene, Balfour and Tobias decided to stick it in a cage and send it to a friend of Balfour's who made hobbies of this sort of thing. Tobias was still a bit put out by this idea, but knew that it was a _lot_ better than knocking it out and drowning it.

At least this way, he could keep it and try to befriend it until Balfour shipped it off. And if he succeeded…who knows? There was always creeping out in the dead of night to set it free…or even keeping it secretly shut in his room when they got home and teaching it tricks! Like having it drop apples onto Mum's head while she was in the kitchen, or tying knots in the girls' hair, and always vanishing before anyone could find out. Then everyone would think that there was a ghost or invisible creature on the loose! It would be fantastic! And Dad would have to come home from work to check it out after an owl from Mum, but Toby would sneak the doxy away in his pocket so everything would appear to be normal!

Ahhh…think of the possibilities!

And with this thought, he strolled away to go make amends with his cauldron, happily singing a Quidditch song about the Comet Two Sixty that Aunt Hestia had taught him, saying that it was very popular when she was small, and every one would sing it at the top of their lungs during the matches:

_Comet!----it makes your face turn green!_

_Comet!----so fast, the air looks clean!_

_Comet! _

_It makes you vomit!_

_So buy a Comet, and vomit today!_

Laughing, Marmie left to brew herself a strong cup of tea while Biddy set out to put Hestia's rooms back in living order. It would have amazed anyone who had seen the destruction in the rooms and who didn't know house-elves in general, or Biddy in particular, but for those who did, it was par for the course that Biddy would be folding the last of Hestia's clothes lovingly only ten minutes after she'd begun to clean.

As soon as she was finished, Biddy went to find out where her small son had gotten to. She hadn't seen him in over an hour and just knew that he was up to something. Just the other day, he'd been missing for three hours until Biddy had uncovered him sleeping in a cupboard in Old William Rhum's gatehouse, which was somewhere Dingy knew he shouldn't have been. If Old William had caught him, it would only have served him right, but Biddy was intent on making sure her trouble-maker-of-a-son didn't get whacked too many times. She did love him, after all.

So, when Balfour and Morgan left to visit the Greenhouses, and Toby went off to do whatever he was doing, and Hestia went on a walk with Evan, and Biddy started searching for Dingy, Irene felt her I-Need-Mummy-meter drop to an unusual low, causing her to withdraw and go mope in the drawing room on the second floor.

After all, if _you_ were the mother of four energetic children and were stuck with them every hour of every day while your husband was away, you, too, would not quite know what to do with yourself when they were gone. Staying at someone else's home, and that someone else owning a diligent house-elf, even precluded the possibility of housework. And being shut away in a room with only a grand piano, a harp, a few music books, and some paintings for company did not improve matters much.

Truthfully, it only made them worse, for now she had a mind that was fully hers and not being lent constantly to doing some other feat, such as worrying about the children, racking a memory for John, saying words of advice to Hestia. At home, Irene's mind was usually devoted to making lists of things that needed to be done, or things that needed to be bought, or things that needed to be _destroyed_ before the children got a hold of them!

Irene had carefully honed her motherly instincts over the years. It was just so hard for her to keep them intact while her family was all at her sister's. She wasn't used to living in such a big house that she couldn't hear her children, even when they were sliding down a staircase on pillows and screaming with laughter. That very same thing had happened on the twins' birthday a week or so ago, and Irene had had absolutely no clue.

And though she was very happy for her kids to find so many things to do at their aunt's house, Irene missed walking in on them on an hourly basis. The children could stay in a room somewhere and be in it for hours at a time, playing one make-believe game after another with all of the many interesting things they found to keep them entertained.

Of course, Evan couldn't stay away for long, and neither could Morgan; both of them would come careening down a hall and throw themselves into her arms to tell her what they had found. The twins, however, (bless their hearts) were starting to grow more and more interested in exploring and inventing new games and such. They wanted to be gone longer and not be interrupted by such foolish things as going to find Mummy.

That was what worried Irene. Of course, at home it wasn't so bad, because there really wasn't that much to get into, at least not of the caliber for her to be worried about. But Irene knew that her two oldest were growing up, and it wouldn't be but another few years in which they would leave her entirely and graduate to a much more interesting playground.

Irene did not like the idea of sending her two wild children to Hogwarts. For one thing, the only ones who could restrain them there were the teachers. Irene could only wish them 'good luck' with that, because the twins were getting to that stage where they were starting to cease even listening to her. And for another thing, without her and John there to stop them, she knew that they were quite capable of stirring up not only trouble but actual danger!

Irene only remembered too well everything that Hestia got herself mixed up in when she started Hogwarts…although being in the same class with four of the worst trouble-makers in the history of the school didn't really help much.

At this time, though, Irene at least knew where her children had gone…and that they were with adults…although this last part really didn't help that much, seeing as how it was _Balfour _and_ Hestia_…but it was better than nothing.

Thus she had a mind free for thoughts of her own. Or so she thought until Dumbledore's letter kept flitting across it. This of course led to thoughts about John which, in turn, led to Irene just _knowing_ that something was wrong with him, regardless of Hestia's reasoning.

So, instead of wallowing in worry and frustration any longer, she sat at the piano that graced the far corner of the drawing room and began to play, letting the music wash over her.

* * *

As sounds from Beethoven's _Fur Elise _filled that quarter of the Mansion, Old William looked up from his drawn out tale of the doxies, only to find the room empty. Grumbling to himself about how no one appreciated him, and how they all just forgot about "poor, handicapped Old William", he trudged off to his gatehouse to reintroduce himself to his whisky dram.

And so, the afternoon wore on.

* * *

Alexandra climbed her second flight of stairs slowly, listening with a small smile on her face. The Mansion was the very essence of silence, excluding but one sound: the mournful melody of piano keys. Every person living there except her mother and herself was now outside enjoying the beautiful weather while it lasted. The news forecaster had predicted record-hot days until the fall.

_In Scotland, that is. I don't really know about back home._

Alexandra felt the smile slip off her face as she thought about the Rookery.

_Home. I miss it…wonder when Daddy'll be back. Mum said probably not for a few weeks…_

She walked slowly down the narrow hall. Her feet made no noise on the plush rug carpeting the length of the corridor. The music intensified in chord and concentration behind the door at the end of the hall.

Alexandra loved the Mansion, of course. With all of its secret rooms and magical instruments, the wide sweeping corridors with their talking portraits, Balfour's dangerous plants, playing games with Aunt Hestia…it was quite difficult to be bored here. There was just too much to do, too much to see, and too much opportunity to make an inexplicable mess. She adored it, really.

But she did miss the oneness they had at the Rookery. She missed her room and her bed and her broomstick, the one she got when she was seven…it only stayed five feet above the ground and didn't go very fast, but she loved it all the same. She missed her small desk under the window and her poetry books; eating breakfast together in their small kitchen, playing Witches and Trolls in the woods near their house, cuddling up in Mum and Dad's bed in a thunderstorm, Daddy's firelit stories of battling dangerous beasts at work…

Alexandra could go on and on. She really did love it at her aunt's, but nothing could beat her home.

Her mother's scales slowed to an end, and she pressed the finishing chords of her song. Alexandra reached the door and poked her head in.

Like all the other rooms in the house, the drawing room was spectacularly finished. It had all shades of blue, with gold and black trimmings, and numerous landscape paintings completed the tinged walls. Over a large harp was a magnificent oil painting on canvas, portraying the sea against moory cliffs, with a cottage on top and a few bird's nests resting against the drop.

That painting was a favorite of hers. She could just feel the moving waves crash against the cliffs and the salty breeze blowing through her hair. Of course, it being a magical painting, she really did see the waves move in time. She knew vaguely that the real counterparts of the cliffs were somewhere in Wales.

With a few simple notes, Mother began to play _Traumerei_. It was a sweet, melancholy song, and one of Mum's favorites. The haunting tune filled the room as Alexandra crept in, careful not to startle Mum while she was playing. Any other time, it would have been funny, but when Mother was in one of these moods…

_It's best not to be on her bad side. And certainly _not _while she's playing _Traumerei. _She only plays it when Dad's gone…I don't think she's ever played it while he was here._

She sat beside her mother on the piano bench and watched her play. Mum had told her long ago, when she was first teaching her how to play, all about the magic of _Traumerei. _It was composed by a German musician called Schumann, who had decided to call his piece _Dreams, _the English interpretation of the German word _traumerei_.

Every time Alexandra heard it, it made her feel like she was walking in her own dreams, regardless of how impossible they might seem. She felt that if she could just reach a little higher, than she could soar above the clouds like a hawk, fly high above everyone else.

She looked over at the Welsh painting, at the birds circling around the sky, diving in for the kill.

_What I want more than anything, _she decided, _is to_ _be where they are. I want to have an adventure! I want to see the world and travel far away from here. I don't want to have to be with Mum and Dad all the time…I want to be out on my own. Well, and Toby, of course…I can't go any where without him…and I might as well take Mory and Vanny too, because they wouldn't want to be left behind either._

Mother's hands caressed the keys with a refined softness which reminded Alexa of the night, years ago, when Mum was trying to put a screaming baby Evan to sleep. She had sung him a beautiful, calm lullaby, and his howls had subsided like magic, until his eyes drifted shut in peaceful sleep.

Alexandra and her mum sat side by side as the song slowed, coming to a graceful end.

Irene put an arm around her daughter and pulled her closer, kissing the top of her head. "Hullo, sweetie," she murmured. "Why aren't you with your brothers and sister?"

Alexandra shrugged. "I dunno…I wanted to know where you were, I guess…" She toyed with a few higher notes on the piano, reciting their names in her head. _Mi…re, fa, mi…mi, re, mi, fa, mi, re, mi, do…_

"How come _you're_ not with _your_ brother and sister?" she shot back, grinning.

Mum made a face back at her. "Because my brother is a long, long way from here, and my sister has taken my little boy for a walk! That's my reason, now what's yours?"

Alexandra stuck her tongue out at the black and white keys. Now she had to answer.

"Because I miss Daddy."

Mother frowned. "We all do, sweetie, but that's no reason not to have fun!"

"_Look who's talking_!" Alexandra exclaimed.

Mum laughed. "I am your mother. I am the one exception!"

"But that's not fair! I miss him more than you do!"

"Oh, I know you love him and miss him _very _much, Alexa, but I still think that I miss him more! Besides, he'll be back in just a few weeks…that's not _too _much longer to wait, is it?" she asked, veering away from any argument.

Alexandra couldn't help but whine, "Yeah, it is!"

Irene gave a sigh quite similar to her daughter's. "It is, isn't it?" she added softly. She played the same tune Alexandra played, but three octaves lower. "But, come on, sweetie! Us two lonely birds must stick together!" Irene straightened up and played the opening tune to _Gavotte._

Noticing her cue, Alexandra plunked the melody of the song while her mother played the accompaniment on the lower keys. It was a very lively song that brightened up their moods at once.

_Perfect_, Irene thought.

* * *

The dragon dung fertilizer was carefully measured into the small individual pots. On the table lay the squirming batch of Violent Violets, while around the table there was an aura of the most putrid smell imaginable. It didn't take long for the Violets to mature, and Balfour knew that the more oxygen the roots took, the more they were likely to resemble sewage and toilet contents.

Thus, Balfour and Morgan, dressed down in dragon-hide gloves, grungy clothes, and thick, rough aprons, were also sporting matching clothespins clamped tight onto their noses.

Morgan was all for using magic to seal their nostrils…that's what Mother did when they were putting the dung fertilizer in the flower beds at home, but Uncle Balfour gave a firm, resounding 'No'.

"It's all right for us to use magic in the Lesser Greenhouse," he explained patiently as he gathered the Violets together. "But it's too risky to use any in here, because some of the plants absorb it and are able to shoot their own back out. Some aren't that bad, like the Violets give off their odor and the fireflower can shoot out small flames in the dark. Others, though, are much more dangerous. I try to use no extra magic in here if I can help it. So clothespins it is!"

Morgan thought they were hilarious. She kept trying to talk and sing, just to hear her strangely modified voice in her ears.

"Uckle Baffour?" she asked once again, giggling at her pronunciation.

Balfour, who had tried to keep his patience with her but was starting to fail, answered.

"_Yes,_Morgad?"

_By George, if she asks me if I like her voice one more time, I'm gonna Silence her!_

But he found that she had moved on to other questions.

"Is the dug packed tight eduff, _yet_?"

Balfour looked down into the pot she was planting her Violet in. The slimy flower dug its roots deeper into the fertilizer.

"Yes, it is! Good job. We just deed to add a teaspood of this stuff to each pot. Do you wa't be to do it, or you?" he asked, nodding to a bright green jar entitled _Slimian Vastisk._

Morgan shook her head. "You do it. I'b bery tired, dow."

Balfour bent his head over the table again, and Morgan scooted around him and a prickly fern to sit on a small stool beside the glass windows. Around them were all sorts of magical plants, most of which were more dangerous than those in the Lesser Greenhouse. Uncle Balfour had set up their table away from the other plants, so nothing would happen while they were working.

Morgan twiddled her thumbs and tugged on her braid, taking the clothespin off her nose and rubbing it, sniffling. She looked around her, tentatively at first, and then took much more interest in the odd plants surrounding the rest of the large room.

Most of the plants were ones Morgan had never seen before, but a few yards away sat the Snapping Dragonwort.

Morgan remembered that Uncle Balfour had it kept in his room for the longest time while he was trying to keep it from becoming sicker, he said. Toby and Alexa would sneak in his room to see it, but its leaves and petals were now full and healthy and it was quite ready for its next meal.

Morgan smiled at the large plant, and admired its beautiful magenta petals that kept opening and closing, revealing something glittering deep inside.

It was the petals that drew little Morgan's attention. Her eyes lit up as she looked at them. They were thick and numerous and looked very velvety and soft. Why, they were as tall as Uncle Balfour himself! And the leaves were much, _much_ bigger than Morgan's head was!

_She's very pretty,_ Morgan smiled brightly at the beautiful, exotic plant. _I want to name her…she needs the bestest name! I wonder what it should be…_

"Hello, honey bunch! You're a very good girl today, aren't you? And you're very healthy and strong! You eat your vegetables, don't you, pretty darling?" She spoke softly, in a high-pitched voice, and edged her stool a bit closer.

By the table, measuring out the last bit of substance into one of the pots, Balfour chuckled aloud. _Plants eating their vegetables? I need to remember that one!_

Morgan took a small step towards the Dragonwort in the urn, holding her hand out to touch it.

Balfour set down the bottle and turned around to see which 'baby' Mory was claiming now.

He froze.

"_Morgan_! NO!"

* * *

_**Author's Note**: Ha! Yes, my dears, it is a cliffie! I hope you liked the chapter, sorry it's two days late! Many thanks to my beta, Whydoyouneedtoknow, go read her works, seriously! _

_As for the three songs Irene played on the piano, I really suggest you go listen to them on the Internet orby a friend's CD...they are pretty aewsome songs. _

_Ilove the reviews! They encourage me to write more. _

_Cheers, everyone!_


	6. Madam Mayhem

_**I disclaim. Other than that which I do claim, to be exact.Now which is witch? Only you can tell the answer...**__**

* * *

**_

_**Chapter Six: Madam Mayhem**_

* * *

"**_M_**other?"

"Yes?"

"I have a question to ask you…" Alexandra paused, thinking.

"Well, what is it, sweetie?"

"Er…well, you see…"

Irene reached over to tickle her daughter. "Spit it out, you! What's your question?"

Alexandra giggled, squirming away. "Well, on mine and Toby's birthday, when we were at Diagon Alley…do you remember?"

"Of course I remember, silly, it was only last week! What about it?"

"Well…"

"_Well_?"

"Well, remember when we were eating ice cream, and I finished before everyone else so I went to look in the window of the Quidditch store?" She shifted in her seat.

Irene sat up. "Yes, I remember…you were talking with a boy, weren't you?"

"Yeah…I was. He said his name was Neville…Longbottom, I think," Alexandra said. She watched as recognition flitted across her mother's face, followed immediately by pity. "What, do you know him?"

Irene blinked. "Neville Longbottom," she repeated softly. "Yes, I know him…or more precisely, I knew his parents. We were in the same year at school. What did Neville say?"

Alexandra fidgeted. "Well, at first we were just talking…and then he asked me where my parents were and I told him, an' I asked him where his was an' he said that they were very sick an' that he lived with his grandmother. And…and so…"

Irene smiled encouragingly. "And so your question is…?"

Her daughter flushed embarrassingly. She snuggled closer and laid her head against Irene's chest. "Mummy? How come I don't have a grandma or a grandpa? All of my friends do…"

Irene drew in her breath. "Oh, sweetie!"

Alexa hurried on. "I-I-I know that you told us that your Mum and Dad died when you were young, but…but why?"

Irene smoothed her child's hair as she studied her answer. Her kids were growing up a lot faster than she thought. "Nobody knows why people die sometimes," she began slowly. "Sometimes it's an accident, like if someone gets sick. Other times than people just die of old age…like your great-uncle Haverington did----"

"Did your mum and daddy die of old age then?" Alexandra asked.

Irene sighed. "No."

"Wellll…was it an accident?"

"No, Alexa! It wasn't that either! What I was going to say is that…there are other times when people aren't really supposed to die, but they do anyway. Like in the middle of a war. That's when somebody makes them die. And it's those people ---- who are very bad people ---- who have to pay for what they did, so we send them to prison."

Alexandra lifted her head up to look at her mother. "Is that how your parents died?" she asked softly. "Somebody killed them?"

Irene hugged her daughter and rocked her gently. "Yes, Alexandra…somebody did."

Alexandra kissed Mum's cheek and hugged her back. "I'm sorry, Mum…but they were sent to prison, weren't they? So they can't kill anybody else, because we're not in a war anymore."

Irene looked over at the window. A few scattered storm clouds were drifting across the sky in their direction. Her eyes hardened as she thought about her oldest daughter's question.

"No, Alexandra," she said finally. "No. They weren't."

* * *

Tobias stared out at the sky from his perch on a creaky, three-legged chair. The air in the hidden room was getting mustier as the atmosphere outside grew thicker.

If he leaned over to the left and strained his neck, he could see a bird in the sky, he figured, though the ivy that covered most of the tiny window hole prevented him from seeing hardly anything else.

He was waiting.

'Waiting' was not a very fun game for a nine-year-old boy. All of the potions were bottled inside small vials he had 'borrowed' from Uncle Balfour. The small fire he had made with Muggle matches had already been doused, the cauldron hastily cleaned with a thick rag and Aunt Hestia's wand returned to her bedside table in one piece.

So now he was waiting…waiting for Dingy and the signal.

He got up and stood on his toes to look down through the ivy and into the Greater Greenhouse. He could just barely see Uncle Balfour and his little sister working at a table near the open doors. As he watched, Morgan moved to sit on a stool near the glass wall.

His gaze shifted to a tree in the grove behind the greenhouses. Its branches were rustling and shaking like there was something in them. Then Dingy's small head and big ears appeared on a branch some nine feet above ground. Directly below him was an old-fashioned birdbath amidst a bed of wild lilies. Old William the gatekeeper was digging up some turnips in one of the vegetable patches near there.

Toby watched the small house-elf scoot along the branch on his rear, wobbling slightly. A small pack was attached to his back, with something long and skinny poking out.

Tobias grinned, his green eyes twinkling.

It was time.

* * *

"So…your parents died when you were fifteen, and they died because someone killed them. But…what about Daddy's parents? Are they dead? Did they get sick, or did they die of old age, or was it an accident…?"

Irene studied her daughter. "Your father's parents…" she said slowly, measuring her words carefully, "…they both died before we were married."

Alexandra ran her fingers through her dark curls. "But how, Mum?"

"Do you really need to know?" Irene said sternly.

Alexandra changed direction mid-word, at one look at her mother's face.

"Yeh --- no."

Her mum kept looking benignly at her until she was forced to conclude, "All right, I get it, I get it! I don't really need to know. Now are you happy? I was just wondering!"

Irene ruffled her daughter's curls. "Yes, I'm happy. All you need to know is that your father's family died in the war before you and Tobe were even born, 'kay?"

Alexandra sat up, confused. She opened her mouth to comment, but Irene beat her to it. "And I absolutely forbid you to ask your dad about it when he gets home!"

Alexandra nodded reluctantly, hugged her mother once more, and scooted away, her green eyes glinting. She peered out of the open window where a thick breeze was blowing in, warning of foul weather.

She'd just sworn to her mother that she wouldn't pry.

But Mum never said that Tobias couldn't.

On the lawn, Biddy was picking her way to the Greater Greenhouse, carrying a tray laden with drinks and snacks for Mory and Uncle Balfour.

Behind Alexandra, her mother zoomed all of the piano books away into the cupboard with her wand, still talking to Alexandra about everything that was on Dad's plate…("He doesn't need you asking questions on top of all that right now.")

Suddenly, Biddy stopped outside, the tray swaying precariously.

Alexandra looked closer and saw that Biddy's eyes were fixated on something happening in the Greenhouse. Her face was masked in horror.

Dimly, Alexa heard Uncle Balfour shout her sister's name. She leaned out the window to see what was going on inside the Greenhouse.

There was a shriek and a roar. Then her mother's voice caught her attention again.

"…He just doesn't need another reminder of what happened. Goodness knows how much he's been through. Why, what with everything that happened to him during the war, and then when we were in hiding ---- " Irene stopped.

It took a moment for Alexandra to register what was said. She spun around. "What? You were in hiding? But--- but---"

Just then there was a loud pop, and Biddy appeared, breathless and wide-eyed. "You must come, Mistress Irene! Hurry! The Greenhouse----the plants----Mistress Morgan----"

"_What_?" Irene was on her feet at once, striding to the house-elf. "What's wrong with Morgan? What happened?"

Biddy could only gasp out, "Please come! There's not much time!" She vanished again.

Irene twirled around on the spot, just in time to see her daughter look at her bewilderment. "But, Mum, I don't understand! Who were you hiding from? _Why_?"

But Irene couldn't hear her any more. She had Disapparated.

* * *

Dingy carefully held out a bundle of Filibuster's Fabulous No-Heat, Wet-Start Fireworks over the birdbath ten feet below him.

He counted down.

"Three…"

There was a flurry of motion in one of the greenhouses.

"Two…"

Then there was a loud roar that made Dingy jump.

"_One_!"

The fireworks slid out of his grasp and started falling down…down…down… 

They exploded.

* * *

A roar of sound met Irene's ears. She had Apparated directly to the door that led into the Greater Greenhouse.

All around her was confusion and chaos. Behind her, fireworks were exploding off into the sky, with booms and bangs. Marmie was hurrying outside, towards the grove of trees in the back, which suddenly resembled something out of a circus. Catherine Wheels were spiraling everywhere, bottle rockets exploded in a color of light and smoke. The wind carried many of them away into the sky.

But Irene only spared them a second glance. What she was focused on was what was happening inside of the Greater Greenhouse.

There was a flurry of activity. Balfour was shouting something to Biddy and rushing towards an exotically gigantic purple flower in the middle of the room.

Virgilia was barking at the flower madly, trying to make herself heard over the blaring din outside. Balfour had a long metal instrument in his hand, which he was trying to shove down the flower's 'throat'. There was a bulge in the middle of the stem, which looked oddly like---

Irene peered more closely at it.

Then she screamed.

"_Morgan_!"

She rushed forward to where Balfour appeared to be trying to wrestle the Snapping Dragonwort. "Balfour! What are you _doing_? GET HER OUT OF THERE! _NOW_!"

"WHAT DOES IT LOOK LIKE I'M DOING, SHAVING MY LEGS?" Balfour furiously wrenched the Dragonwort's mouth open and stuck his hand in. The Dragonwort clamped its jaws tightly onto his arm.

He yelled in pain, then in triumph. "I'VE GOT HER HAND! I'M GOING TO TRY AND PULL HER OUT!" he shouted above the fireworks, which seemed to be going crazy outside. None of them were slowing down at all; in fact, the explosions were only increasing in numbers and in strength. "IRENE! YOU HAVE TO KEEP ITS MOUTH OPEN! COME HERE!"

Irene ran forward, reached into the depths of the petals and worked her fingers around its teeth. She pried them apart and kept them as far away as she could, groaning with the effort.

* * *

Outside, Marmie was streaking across the lawn, pulling out her wand as she ran. The sky had darkened considerably and the wind picked up, blowing fireworks all over. Some had a mind of their own, caterwauling over the Mansion and smashing straight into one of the upper windows.

Old William had not been but ten feet from the birdbath when they all first exploded. He screamed in fright, dropped his spade, and ran. Now he was yelling obscenities at the fireworks, pulling out his wand to hex them as they streaked past.

Beyond the gates and in the neighbors' yards, people streamed out to watch, wondering what blockheads were celebrating in a storm. Children were jumping up and down excitedly, almost carried away by the wind, craning their heads to look up at the sky.

Up in the tree, Dingy watched, fascinated at what he had just done. It was like Bonfire Night all over again, but so much better!

Then he saw a vicious dragon careening straight towards him, its wings spread out wide. With a squeak, the small house-elf toppled out of sight and into the much abused birdbath.

Alexandra watched all of this from her perch in the drawing room window. She leaned further out to watch one go off above the Mansion roof. Thick, swirling clouds were moving around restlessly above the noise. Then, with a loud crack of thunder, the skies opened and a bolt of lightning lashed to the ground. 

Alexandra shrieked as thunder sounded, remarkably close to them. A few large drops of rain started falling. This only spurred the fireworks on to greater heights.

The many watchers hurried inside, so as not to be victims of the storm's awesome power. Once indoors, the kids ran to the nearest set of windows so as not to miss the fireworks battle against the rain and lightening.

Everyone was much too preoccupied to notice a dark-haired boy slip in and out of the Mansion's abandoned kitchen.

* * *

Balfour felt Morgan's small hands tighten around his own, and pulled with all his might.

The Snapping Dragonwort squirmed and twisted, but Irene held on. The jagged teeth cut into her skin and she knew she was bleeding, but still she kept its mouth open.

She saw Balfour's large hands emerge, holding tightly to Morgan's. When most of her arms were showing, he gripped her tightly around her armpits. Irene gasped when she saw her daughter's blonde head. The girl was covered in a strange sticky substance Irene could only guess to be part of the Dragonwort's innards.

Balfour heaved and pulled, and slowly more of Morgan was revealed. She was halfway out when the Snapping Dragonwort started tugging back, bucking its top half and throwing Irene to the floor. Balfour pulled with all of his might, keeping a tight hold on Morgan, but he too was almost overthrown.

Morgan shrieked as she was pulled back into the flower's body. Her feet were locked together by what felt like a snaky tongue.

Irene shouted herself hoarse, screaming at Balfour to get her out.

Balfour could feel Morgan's slimy hands slipping through his fingers. He tried to grasp her with all of his might, but failed.

_NO!_

* * *

Hestia stopped and listened.

"Do you hear something, Evan?" she asked, cocking her head to the side.

In the distance there was a rumble of thunder, and above them, the tops of the trees swayed to the wind's tune…but she thought she heard something else.

Evan cast his eyes around them. He only came up to his aunt's waist, so he couldn't see as far as she could into the darkness around them. With the trees' foliage covering the sky, the light that shone down on them was very limited. Now, with a storm coming on, Hestia was beginning to get very edgy.

When they had first set out, they had taken a stroll through their part of town. Then, when they turned around, they decided to go home the longer way through the trees.

Hestia was starting to think that had been a very bad idea.

Evan perked his ears up. There…he heard it. It was like someone was tromping through the woods somewhere around them.

"I hear it," he whispered.

The wind circled around them, blowing Hestia's hair wildly in every direction. Leaves danced around them, thunder shook the sky, fireworks went off somewhere ahead of them, which struck Hestia as rather odd.

And then it came again, louder this time, right ahead of them in the darkness. Hestia peered into the underbrush, but a second later, she found she didn't have to.

Lightning split through the woods, followed by an instant clap of thunder.

Hestia stared. Evan's hold on her hand tightened.

A man stepped out of the darkness before them.

* * *

Lord Balfour was trying, but it was no good. Morgan was being swallowed up before his very eyes, for the second time.

Then, out of nowhere, Virgilia soared over Irene's body and landed beside her master. She was barking furiously, slobber dripping down her muzzle. Balfour fell as Virgilia pushed roughly past him to get at the Dragonwort.

Irene and Balfour stared as the dog seized the violent flower around the stem. Green, magenta, blue, and black blurred together as the two wrestled.

The Snapping Dragonwort put up a very good fight, but Virgilia snarled ever more savagely and ripped at its stem and petals. Finally, the Dragonwort spat the little girl out, and Morgan hurled through the air to land on her mother.

Cowering, the gigantic flower shrank as far back as it could, away from the mad dog. Virgilia howled in triumph, in harmony with the vicious thunder and firework bangs outside. Rain was pounding on the Greenhouse roof now, dripping down the sides, giving the occupants inside an eerie greenish look.

Irene hugged her daughter and kissed her all over, ignoring the slime covering her. Balfour walked over to them, exhausted, after giving Virgilia a well-deserved rubbing down.

"Irene, I…" he started weakly, but she only glared back at him.

"_Don't_ speak to me," she hissed.

Morgan tore herself from her mother's arms to launch herself at Balfour. He picked her up and held her close, trying not to let her slip out of his grasp again.

It was entirely his fault, he knew. There was no way he could blame anyone or anything else. He should have kept a better eye on her; he should have set their table up outside, away from the more dangerous plants; he should never have let her within twenty feet of the Snapping Dragonwort…he should never have even let her in the Greenhouse in the first place.

He thought that the protection he'd put around the Dragonwort was good enough, but it obviously hadn't been. He'd set perimeters around it, even kept it in a corner far away from everything else. He couldn't have put an invisible enchantment on it (no magic inside the Greater Greenhouse, he'd said it before), but he should have at least built a ten-foot wall around it, so as to keep little Mory away.

_Damn it_! He felt like crying as he hugged her harder. _It's all my fault…it's all my fault and I almost lost her…it's all my fault…how will she ever forgive me? How will my little girl ever forgive me?_

Just then Morgan whispered in his ear. "Uncle Balfour, it was so _awesome_! I got _eaten_! Just wait till Toby hears about this!"

Balfour jerked his head back to stare at her. She giggled.

_Well. I guess she already has._

_

* * *

_

**_Author's Note: Aahhh! The terror! The horror! Whatwill happen? What will we do? How can we _possibly _wait for the outcome!_**

**_Do not worry. I hear your cry. I shall return...with an update! In one week! _****_Shall I spare you until then?_**

**_HA! I think not!_**

**_Love, Hestia_**

**_P.S. (You can proclaim your vengence by not reviewing!)_**


	7. Brewing Storms In Cauldrons

(Previously, on 'Of Mugwumps and Toadstools:)

_Lightning split through the woods, followed by an instant clap of thunder. _

_Hestia stared. Evan's hold on her hand tightened._

_A man stepped out of the darkness before them..._

_

* * *

_

_**Chapter Seven: "Brewing Storms In Cauldrons"

* * *

**_

**_H_**is hood was pulled low over his eyes, and his face set back in the shadows. A dark cloak fell to the ground, and Hestia noticed an oddly shaped patch on the bottom. She felt as if she should know the owner of it, but for the life of her, she could not recognize this man.

Evan's grip on her hand tightened even further as he shied behind Hestia. She squeezed Evan's hand reassuringly before turning to face the man.

"Who are you?" she demanded, trying desperately hard to hide her fear.

_I know Evan's scared…he gets scared a lot…but it's never something simple or stupid. He only gets scared for a reason. Storms don't frighten him, spiders or snakes don't frighten him, Old William doesn't frighten him…_

It took a while for the man to answer. Thunder rumbled high above, lightning split the darkness, and the wind hitched up another notch.

"Don't you know me, Hestia?" he asked finally, in a somewhat hoarse voice.

Hestia started. He'd used her name…that meant he knew her, which also meant that she probably knew him…

_His voice sounds familiar…I know it from somewhere…where have I heard it before? _

"No," she answered uncertainly. Her hair blew about in the wind. She swept it out of her eyes with a hand. _What if he tries something? I won't be able to see it until it's too late._

A protectiveness of Evander swept over her, far more powerful than any she had ever felt. There was no way she was going to let him come near her nephew…no matter who he was, or who he said he was. Suddenly she felt stronger. "No, I don't know who you are. Why don't you enlighten me, _sir_?"

Her mind was going a million miles an hour. _The one time Evan was terribly frightened of something, other than his dreams, was when we were walking in Diagon Alley and met a woman outside of the Apothecary. He screamed andthrew a fitwhen she tried to sell Toby a pound of powered griffin claws. We knew something was wrong with him. He never acts like that. Then later, we found out the woman was a convicted kidnapper under a glamour charm – if Tobias had taken the claws, she would have been able to find him wherever he went..._

The man shifted slightly on his feet, as if nervous, but his voice gave no sense of that. "Innocent men being molested in the woods. What is this country coming to?" He smirked. "Though I am curious as to what a _friend_ of mine is doing in those wretched clothes, dressed as an ordinary Muggle."

His gaze swept over her body, and Hestia could just feel those eyes examining every inch of her. It felt wrong. She couldn't keep herself from shivering. "Muggle society surrounds us," she replied coldly. "If _you_ wish to be obvious, feel free, but Evander and I are perfectly comfortable as we are."

The man stepped a bit closer to them, his cloak rustling against the heel of his boots, and looked down at Evan, who was still hiding behind Hestia, big blue eyes regarding the man with obvious distrust. "Evander, you say?" He stooped a bit so he could look more closely at Evan.

Chills running up and down her spine, Hestia slid her hand into the pocket that held her wand. She had wanted to before, but the man had been watching her so closely that she hadn't dared.

Evander looked back at the man unflinchingly. His pale face stood out in the dusky storm-light underneath his shock of golden hair. He took a tentative step out from behind Hestia, and the man reached out to stroke his cheek, but Hestia pulled Evander behind her again.

"Don't _touch_ him! I asked you a question and I expect an answer," she said forcefully. "_Who are you_?"

_My wand!I don't have my wand! It's not here!_ Hestia's eyes grew wide with fear. Without her wand...how could she prtoect Evan and herself without her wand?

The man chuckled and lowered his hood. "Will _this_ answer you, fair lady?" he said jocularly.

* * *

Uncontrolled fireworks still zoomed feverishly all over the sky outside, a storm raged with thunder roaring and lightning striking every few minutes, yet things felt strangely satisfying. 

For Tobias, in any case.

He and Alexandra crouched on the top of the first flight of stairs, looking down through the bars at their mother and Uncle Balfour. The adults stood six feet from each other in the front room, shouting so loudly that the twins could have been in the topmost attic, never mind the stairs, and still have been able to hear every word perfectly.

"----Of course it's all _your_ fault, who else do you thinkis _TO_ blame here? And don't you _dare_ try to tell me that it wasn't anybody's fault, because I _highly doubt_ that!----"

"----Irene, I would _never even think_ of saying that it wasn't my fault for one _bloody_ minute! If you would let me get a word in _edgewise----"_

On the couch next to one of the Mansion's many fireplaces, the twins' smaller sister was huddled in a blanket, telling Marmie in full detail all about her adventure. The story held them both entranced, despite the screaming match occurring right beside them, and it seemed Marmie was so wrapped up on the insides of a Snapping Dragonwort that she had forgotten all about dinner.

Though, unless Alexandra was mistaken, the kitchen utensils were going about fixing it without their 'mistress' just fine.

Irene stopped shouting long enough to take a breath. Another loud voice echoed down the hall, shouting about fireworks and trees.

"And _that_ would be Biddy!" Tobias muttered.

His sister sat back. "Poor guy. You should really take the blame, you know. After all, it was _your _fireworks he was setting off, on _your _orders!"

"I didn't make him do it! He volunteered! Why should _I_ get in trouble?"

"Because it was_ your_ idea!" she shot back. "You'd better tell her! That it was yours and not Dingy's!"

"And what if I _don't_?" Tobias rolled his eyes at her.

"Hmmm," said Alexandra sarcastically. "Now what can I use to blackmail Tobias with? What a hard question! Perhaps that instance with our blown-up _toilet_ would do!"

Tobias sat straight up. "Don't you dare!"

His sister just smirked at him.

"But it was an accident! I didn't mean to blow it up!"

"It _wasn't_ an accident when you started messing with Dad's medicine potions!" Alexandra retorted. "Mum already _knows_ that you know that pretensus is flammable! She's not gonna believe you didn't chuck it in there on purpose."

Tobias scowled and made a face at her. "Fine! I'll tell Biddy! Are you happy, _now_, evil one?"

She grinned up at him. "Maliciously!"

* * *

Hestia stared at him, her eyes widening. 

_It can't be possible! He can't be here! It's not him, it's not him, it's NOT! _

Lightning flickered on and off again, illuminating the man's features.

For one moment, her voice was lost in the raging contents of the storm. Then she found it.

"_John_?"

* * *

Toby started down the stairs, causing a momentary lull in the screaming as Irene and Balfour suddenly realized that they weren't the only ones in the room. Alexandra hesitated, then followed her brother down the stairs just as he disappeared down the hall. 

She scooted around the enraged pair of adults, who were going at it again.

"I tried to get her out the best I _could_, Irene! _Why_ can't you understand that?"

"Oh, _I_ understand. I understand that your best wasn't _good_ enough!" Mother snapped.

"_Well, what would you have LIKED me to do_? Be_lieve_ me when I say that _nobody_ feels worse about it than _I_ do!" Balfour yelled.

"WELL, IF IT WEREN'T FOR _YOUR _BLOODY DOG----"

"_DON'T _GO ON ABOUT VIRGILIA, IRENE! SHE BLOODY WELL EFFING _SAVED _YOUR DAUGHTER!----"

Normally, Alexandra thought as she hurried down the hallway, her mother only yelled at her, Alexa, or atToby, when one of them did something to set her off.

_Nice not to be the one getting shouted at for a change. _

She crept down the corridor opposite the one Toby was using, which led to the kitchens. Many of the portraits she walked past had their hands clapped over their ears. One of them in particular stopped her as she walked by. "What _is_ that woman harping on about, pray tell?"

Alexandra turned to see a likable old man with a walrus mustache and spectacles peering out at her. "Oh, Mum's just mad at Uncle Balfour for letting my sister get eaten up by a plant."

"Gracious!" the old man exclaimed. The other portraits around them gasped, whispering amongst themselves. Some migrated through each other's frames to get to the end of the hall, away from the racket. Alexandra didn't blame them.

She had only taken a few more steps when she was interrupted yet again. "Little girl! _Little girl!_"

Alexandra looked around to see who was calling her. To her left, away from the other portraits, a single painting resided with an old hag and her harp as its lone occupant. It was the same one that had caught Alexandra's interest earlier on…the one next to the Ravenclaw tapestry.

"I-I-I beg your pardon, but...did you say something?" Alexandra asked the hag, moving closer. Everyone else in the other portraits had already fled. Other than themselves, the hall was deserted.

"Yes, I did, little girl!" the hag sniffed, apparently not liking to repeat herself. "I asked if you were, by any chance, related to Hadwin and Glynnis Hesperus?"

Alexandra blinked. "Er…yeah, I am. They were my grandparents…on my mother's side."

The hag chuckled, obviously pleased. She fingered a few chords on her large harp, which looked strangely familiar to Alexandra. "I thought as much. You look most like your father, but you do have some Hesperus traits in you. Your hair, for instance…you've inherited it from your mother, who in turn received it from _her _mother. Glynnis Jones was most notable for her wilder curls. And your neck----"

Alexandra's hands flew up to her slender neck.

"----Looks like you've got Elspeth's gifts in that area." The hag finished.

"Who's Elspeth?" Alexa asked, her nine-year-old curiosity kicking in.

The old hag thought for a moment. "She would be your…great-great-aunt. Haverington's and Halstead's sister…pity, though…"

"Why?"

"She died very young, you know. Straight off a Hogwarts graduate. Died the very night she came home. Tragic it was…I was downstairs having dinner with the rest. I'm _her_ aunt."

"How do you know all this stuff?" Alexandra asked, amazed. "How old _are _you?"

"What is the year, young one?"

"Er…1991…July seventh…_A.D._," she added, just in case.

The hag chuckled. "I'm not _that_ old, child! Let's see, that would make me…one hundred and twenty on this very day."

Alexandra grinned. "Many happy returns, then!"

* * *

"Pleased to meet you!" John said wryly. 

Hestia was thoroughly confused. "But---but I thought you were in the Caribbean! Did…did they let you off early?"

"No, I decided to ditch them and join the National Birdwatcher's Guild!" John retorted nastily.

Hestia must have looked quite shocked and taken aback, for he hastily said in a kinder tone, "Yes, we were done sooner than expected, Hestia. Sorry if I sound a bit snappish. I was recently in hospital and I fear the drugs have given me rather ugly side-effects."

Hestia just stared at him. Something seemed wrong…she just couldn't place it. It certainly looked like John, in any case. His same dark brown hair, those same green eyes, the light sprinkle of freckles across his cheeks…

That was another thing that concerned Hestia: there were three long, disagreeable-looking scars, running four inches diagonal across his left cheek.

"What in heaven's name has happened to your face?"

John just shrugged it off. "Oh, that's nothing…just ran into a bloody dragon with too many spikes on his tail, is all. It…it's been checked at St. Mungo's, don't worry!" he added hastily. "Now, were you serious about me not touching my own son?"

Unconsciously, Hestia released her tight hold on her nephew. She looked to see his face still covered in a five-year-old's fear.

Bending down, she whispered in his ear, "Look Evan! Daddy's back! Do you want to go say hullo? Tell him how much you've missed him!"

Evan looked at her, his mouth forming an 'O'. She pushed him gently forward, nodding him on.

Evan stood between his aunt and his father, looking up at the latter hesitantly. He was twisting his small hands in front of them, something Hestia noticed was becoming a habit of his when he was worried and undecided. He seemed to stand there forever, just looking up and scrutinizing his father as the storm raged on above the sheltering trees.

Finally, Evan made up his mind. He took one step forward and John swept him up into his arms, with what sounded like a faint cry of triumph.

"Here's my little Evander! Strapping young man, he is! All grown up, too…how much have you shot up since I saw you last, Evander?" John asked, beaming at the son in his arms.

Evan didn't answer. He just looked at John's face, which was now much closer than it was before.

Hestia stepped up, "Erm…he's grown an inch since last winter already, Irene says. So…how was your trip back? Comfortable I hope…I mean, despite the obvious…"

John shifted uncomfortably. "Fine…just fine…but how _is_ Irene?"

"If you would like to come home with me, we can go find out. I really should be getting Evan back…Irene will worry," Hestia said nonchalantly.

"Er…yes, I think I will…thanks," John said, politely.

The conversation was becoming a bit too forced, Hestia noticed. It left her feeling oddly…depressed. She and John used to get on so well together, despite the faintly lingering resentment Hestia had had lately against him for being gone all the time and hurting Irene. But she thought she was doing much better than she had been, and now…this.

She forced a smile and started to lead the way back to the Mansion, casting a furtive glance over her shoulder to see if he was following.

John was staring after her, an oddly unpleasant look on his face.

"Are you coming? We really need to hurry…it'll be raining hard any minute!" Hestia called back to him.

Starting from his small reverie, John started walking after her.

"I'm right behind you…_Hestia_."

* * *

The old hag with the harp was rambling…Alexandra knew that much. 

She was going on and on about the children's great-great-aunt, great-great-uncle, great-great-grandfather…at first, Alexandra had been intrigued, but now her attention was seriously waning…

"…They were quite close, you know…though the sibling rivalry, of course, was always an issue, but ---- and I am saying this quite from experience, now ---- sometimes brothers and sisters are brought together much more efficiently after a crisis occurs."

_Don't think Toby and I will ever have that problem,_ Alexandra though, stifling a yawn.

"Why, just look at your mother and aunt! Those two weren't always that close, you know…in fact…" the hag leaned in closer, gesturing Alexandra to do the same, "_I've_ heard that it wasn't until your grandparents' _tragic_ death that they started their actual bonding! I, for one, think that if their parents hadn't been so brutally murdered----"

"Wait!" Alexandra jerked her head up. "_What_? What do you mean 'brutally murdered'? I…I don't understand!"

The hag looked taken aback. "Oh, dear…slip of the tongue, I daresay. But…hasn't anyone ever told you before? _How_ your grandparents really died?"

"Well…yes…" Alexandra said slowly. "I asked my mother about it just this afternoon, you see. She said that her Mum and Dad were killed in the last war and the people who did it were never sent to…to the wizard prison…Whatsitsname."

"Azkaban. And your mother is right. She and her brother were away at Hogwarts when it happened, you know…she was fifteen and he had just turned seventeen, if I recall correctly. Their parents were murdered right in their very home, you know…has anyone ever told you _that_?"

The hag seemed so very pleased to be able to tell all she knew to someone…_anyone…_that it hardly registered to her that a nine-year-old girl wasn't the best candidate. Alexandra was starting to feel very faint.

…_Mum's parents…_my _grandparents…how could anyone _do_ something like that? It's…it's horrible…but…she said that they had been in their own home…she said they were murdered in their very home...and Mum and Uncle Jason were at school…they didn't know…_

Then a horrible thought struck her.

"W-w-wait! You said…you said that they were in their own house, right? And Mum and her brother were at school? So…where was Aunt Hestia…when they were…were…_killed_? She was…she wasn't at their house…_right_?"

* * *

Evan couldn't tear his eyes away from his…_father's_…face. 

He was settled in his father's arms. That was his favorite place to be…usually.

He squirmed uncomfortably. John just tightened his grip and hoisted him up further as they set off after Aunt Hestia.

The rain started to come down at last. John's boots squelched on the soft ground, but Evander kept his eyes on his father's cheek, on the strange and scary _scars_. Then he shifted his gaze to his father's eyes. They were green, just like they should be…but they didn't seem the same to Evander.

His father's eyes, Evan knew from gazing into John's face all his life from his favorite perch, were green like the sea. They were soft and round and Evander always loved to look at them. But now, they were…harder, and less sea-like. In fact, they reminded Evan of a snake Toby once caught in their yard…all shimmery and bright, and…snake-like.

Suddenly, those green eyes looked down at him. Startled, Evan looked down to the scars again.

When John looked back at Aunt Hestia, who was now only right in front of them, Evan made up his mind.

He reached his small fingers up to his father's face to touch those frightening scars.

* * *

Lightning split through the hall followed by the loudest crack of thunder yet. Alexandra jumped and uttered a small shriek of surprise. 

The hag just chuckled.

Now that the lightning was gone, the hall seemed much darker than before.

"It _is_ dark, isn't it?" the hag said softly, as if reading her thoughts. "He can do that to you…the dark one who goes about brewing storms in cauldrons…he frightens many. Now aboutyour auntHestia...you are quite the perceptive child, now, aren't you? But, you are right…your 'Aunt Hestia' as you call her, seems to have been forgotten in my tale. It was spring…just before Easter-time, in fact. Your mother and Uncle Jason _were_ at Hogwarts. But their younger sister was too little. She was to start in the fall, you understand…"

"But was she there in the house, or not?" Alexandra interrupted, growing impatient.

The hag scrutinized her.

"Yes," she said abruptly. "Yes, she was. In fact, _she_ saw the whole thing!"

* * *

Evan screamed. 

Hestia spun around on the spot and stared. In John's arms, Evan was twisting around, bending his small body backward, kicking and fighting, flailing his little fists against his father's chest.

"_Evan_!" Hestia yelled.

John started and looked at her, confused. He struggled to keep a hold of his son, but Evander was thrashing around and screaming as if someone was tearing his heart in half.

"Evan! Calm down! What is the _matter _with you! What's _wrong_, sweetie?" Hestia tried to soothe him, but it wasn't working.

"_NONONONONONONONONONONONONONO_!" Evander screamed at the top of his lungs. Then he finally succeeded in releasing himself from his father's grasp and slid to the ground.

John looked at his finger, where blood was leaking out. "He bit me!" he said, in a daze. His face was just as white as his son's had been a moment before. He looked down at his youngest child. He looked devastated, Hestia saw, horribly and completely devastated.

Evander threw himself onto his aunt's feet, sobbing uncontrollably. Hestia picked him up gingerly and held him in her arms, whispering words of comfort into his ear, just as she had done only the night before.

"Vanny…it's all right, now, Vanny. Everything's going to be all right, now…sshhhh…don't cry, honey. You're going to make me cry, too!" Hestia hugged him to her, and looked at her brother-in-law.

Evan's sobs subsided as John just stared at the two, a torn expression on his face.

"_Evander_…" he whispered.

Rain dripped down from the many leaves and branches onto their heads. Thunder ripped through the darkened day once more, jerking John from his trance.

"I-I-I…er…I just…I can't," he started backing away, looking at his son. "I'm sorry, Hestia, but I just can't do this. I thought I was fine…that's why I left the ---- the ---- but, I guess not…"

"John, what are you…" Hestia began in surprise.

But it was too late. He had vanished.

* * *

Alexandra stared at the hag. Down the hall, the shouting rose up another notch. The storm grew stronger outside. 

At first, she couldn't speak, and then she didn't want to, but she couldn't seem to stop the words from coming out of her mouth. "Aunt Hestia…she…she…she _saw_----?" Tears sprang into her eyes unbidden.

"Oh, yes, dreadful ordeal, very dreadful…'twould scar a girl for life, seeing something like that! In fact, I suppose it did----"

Suddenly, the hag in the painting was cut off by a deep, quiet, but powerfully firm voice.

"I think that is quite enough!"

* * *

"John?" Hestia called. "_John_!" 

She hurried to where he had been just a few seconds before. All she could see in the next flash of lightning, though, were his boot tracks in the mud, leading to nowhere.

"_John_!" She spun around, looking wildly into the dark night.

Evander, still clutching tightly onto her red, drenched blouse, whimpered as the rain fell harder. "I want my Daddy!"

Hestia looked up at the darkened sky, then through the trees to where the Mansion stood. "I know, Evan." She picked him up, sheltering him from the pounding rain with her own body. "But I can't find him right now. Let's go home."

* * *

"IRENE, I CAN _NOT _UNDO WHAT HAS ALREADY HAPPENED, DAMMIT! WHAT MORE DO YOU WANT OF ME?" 

"_What do I want?" _Irene asked in disbelief. "WHAT DO I _WANT? _WHAT I WANT, LORD _BALFOUR, _IS FOR YOU TO BURN THAT WRETCHED FLOWER OF YOURS! WHAT DO YOU _THINK _I WANT!"

"_WHAT? _I CAN'T JUST KILL A SNAPPING DRAGONWORT! IT'S A RARE SPECIES! IT DOESN'T EVEN BELONG TO ME, FOR MERLIN'S SAKE! IT'S THE BLOODY WIZARDING INTERNATIONAL BOTANICAL SOCIETY'S! I'M _SUPPOSED_ TO TAKE CARE OF IT, NOT MURDER IT!"

"WELL, THEN, I SUGGEST YOU TAKE _CARE_ OF IT! _NOT_ FEED IT LITTLE GIRLS, YOU ----!"

"It seems we have a bit of an argument! May I be of some assistance?" said a polite voice from the hallway.

Irene and Balfour stopped to look.

The man standing in the entranceway to the front room wore sweeping robes of periwinkle hue. His silver beard flowed down to his belt and his astonishingly blue eyes twinkled with mischief behind half- moon spectacles. To his right, Alexandra released her hold from his hand, wiping the last trace of tears from her eyes.

Irene and Balfour just stared, speechless.

Some things were better left unsaid, after all. Especially in front of Albus Dumbledore.

* * *

_Author's Note: Thank you SO MUCH everyone who reviewed! I'll love you forever! _

_Now...about the chapter. Things are getting quite darker, aren't they? I told Anne as I sent it to her for beta-ing that this is the longest chapter I've written for 'Mugwumps' and, also, the most angst-ridden. I'm sorry! But then again, I'm not..._

_Can anyone guess what is wrong with John? He has a scret he's not telling anyone, I think you can guess that much, but what, exactly, is it? And where has he disappeared off to? _


	8. The Smoking Dragon

* * *

**_Chapter Eight: The Smoking Dragon_**

* * *

**_T_**he doors flew open with a resounding _bang_. Every head in the front hall turned to look at the spectral sight of Hestia Hesperus standing in the doorway.

To Irene, it was nothing short of amazing that her sister was capable of commanding such attention without even noticing she had done it. And in this single moment alone, Hestia did indeed attract spellbound stares with her presence.

She came marching down the hall, dripping wet, in her tight-fitting Muggle attire, her eyes burning, face white, and long curls almost black with water. Evan clung tightly to her, face still buried in her neck, sniffling and shivering, every bit as wet as his beloved aunt.

With the storm behind her, visible through the open doors that banged against the wall, and flashes of lightning silhouetting her figure, Hestia Hesperus looked more regal and demanding than ever before. As she strode across the entrance hall towards the front room, though, Hestia had eyes only for one person among the many gathered there.

"Albus, he's here!" she said urgently.

The Headmaster's eyes became sharp at the look of alarm on his former pupil's face. "Whom do you mean, Hestia?"

"John! I met him in the woods and----"

Irene gasped. Albus made a gesture in her direction, though his eyes never left Hestia's. His were gazing at hers with an intensity that mystified Hestia. "What do you mean, you met him in the woods?"

"Evan and I took the shortcut coming home because we saw the storm coming. We were just walking and John stepped out. But…he looked different. He had these scars on his face and he acted rather odd. Evander threw a fit when John tried to hold him---"

Irene clamped a hand to her mouth to stifle the noise that nearly escaped. Her eyes flew back and forth from Albus to Hestia.

_John? He's back? But where is he? I want to see him! Is he all right? But why was he in the woods? Why didn't come here? How did he look different? And…what was that she said? He had _scars _on his face? But…I don't understand…why wouldn't Evan let him hold him? Evan loves his father! What's going _on

She furiously wrenched her mind away from its reckless thoughts so as not to miss anything that was being said.

"Impossible…" Dumbledore said as if to himself. He gazed at the wall opposite in concentration. After a full minute's staring at the intricate Armenian Goblin design, he seemed to come up with a solution. Moving to where Hestia stood in the entranceway, he looked down into her eyes and asked her one question.

"May I?"

Hestia stared at him. Then she drew up her head, matching his gaze, and nodded.

Irene, Balfour, Marmie, Biddy, Dingy, and the children all watched in amazement as Professor Dumbledore performed Legilimency on Hestia, with his hands extended towards her head. They stood with their eyes locked, barely blinking. Hestia's hold on Evander tightened as she relived the event. He seemed to have fallen asleep in all the excitement, regardless of what was now happening.

When Albus Dumbledore finally lowered his arms and looked away, he seemed even more puzzled than before. "It is simply not _possible_…" he said again, more slowly this time, and with much more meaning. He walked away, massaging his temples, wishing fervently that he had his Pensieve at hand.

Hestia and the others watched him tentatively. He looked as if he was concentrating very hard on whatever was happening in his mind. No one dared to disturb him until Hestia finally asked, "And why is that impossible?"

Albus Dumbledore straightened up and looked around at the Rosier children and the Hesperus household, all situated in different parts of the room and all staring at him.

"It is not possible," he answered quietly, "because I have just come from St. Mungo's, where John Rosier has been a patient for over three hours now."

"But what _happened?_" Irene blurted out. She sat down at one of the long velvet sofas covering the length of the room. "Did something go wrong again? Is he all right now? _Is he?_"

"There's no need to worry, Irene, everything's just fine now. You can even go see him, if you'd like, but I'd rather it wait until I've had the chance to talk with you," Dumbledore said, walking over to the leather armchair by the window. He must still have been befuddled by what he'd seen in Hestia's mind, for no sooner had he lowered himself into his seat than he jumped up again as Gypsy hissed, kneazle for "I was here first!"

The children giggled. Dumbledore merely smiled, picked the creature up, and sat down again. Gypsy purred contentedly, batting at tendrils of the Headmaster's long, silver beard.

Irene suddenly rounded on her sister. "I _told _you! I knew it had something to do with John!"

Hestia walked over and laid the sleeping Evander on the couch beside his mother, conjuring a blanket to cover him. Normally she would have argued, but she was too weary at the moment. "Yes, Irene. You were right…I'm sorry. But he's alright, Irene…he's going to be alright…"

Irene gave a sad smile. "I know," she whispered back, hugging her sister.

A fire suddenly burst into being in the hearth, crackling merrily, followed by exclamations from the kids and a guffaw by Balfour as Old William's head popped into the fire. "Just to let you know, Marjoribanks," he said gruffly, scowling, "I've got your ol' dog in with me." He vanished as suddenly as he had popped in, and the flames died out again.

"Why thank you, _Sir _William! It is quite a relief to know that my dog will be taken care of by _you_," Balfour said, quite bitterly, into the empty hearth.

Tobias stared at him. "I'm not sure he heard you," he said after a moment.

Balfour turned on him. "Why thank you for that brilliant assessment, _Sherlock_! I'll keep that in mind next time I try talking to a wall."

Alexandra shared a look with Tobias that clearly meant '_What side of the bed did _he _wake up on this morning?' _Balfour ignored them and just stared moodily out of the darkened window. An uncomfortable silence followed until Morgan broke it by sneezing.

"Gesundheit!" Albus Dumbledore said cheerfully.

"Bless you," Marmie told Morgan.

"Bless you," Toby said to the Headmaster.

Balfour pointedly ignored all four of them.

"Why, Morgan!" Hestia exclaimed. "What in Merlin's name is that stuff?"

She had only just noticed the condition of the youngest girl in the room, not surprising since Morgan was mostly hidden underneath a thick blanket. Most of the Dragonwort goop had slid off her when Balfour had carried her into the Mansion in the rain, but some still remained. Alexandra leaned over to pick off a particularly large glob stuck in one of Morgan's curls.

Hestia stared at Morgan in surprise, whereas everyone else was staring at _her_ in surprise…except for Albus Dumbledore, who seemed to be as puzzled as Hestia as to Morgan's current state. "How in the world did you acquire that…that…_slime_ on your hair?"

Morgan brightened. "Ooh! You'll never guess what happened, Aunt Hestia! Go on! Try and guess! See if you'll get it right!"

Thus, Albus Dumbledore and Hestia Hesperus learned all about the Greenhouse incident, laughing appreciatively when Irene explained in great detail about Virgilia soaring over head to save her daughter.

Apparently, Balfour and Irene were still sore at each other, for when Irene asked him to contribute his part into the story, he just glared at her.

"Oh, no you don't!" Irene's voice rose. She rounded on Hestia. "It was his bloody fault the whole thing happened, mind you. If he'd been keeping a better eye on her, it never would have happ----"

"I _told_ you, I did everything I could!" Lord Balfour shouted. His 'just ignore them' attitude was abandoned, as he rose to his feet with full conviction.

Alexandra, Tobias, and Morgan rolled their eyes. Adults could be such babies sometimes.

Albus turned to Hestia, as Irene and Balfour started to argue again. "Hestia," he said quietly to her, so no one else would hear. "Would you care to tell me where your wand was, in accordance with your body in your memory?"

Hestia blinked at him. She'd forgotten about that, and judging by Albus's stern look, it wasn't a good thing to have forgotten.

Alexandra and Tobias, who were both trying hard to look as though they weren't listening in, lest they were caught, suddenly coughed in surprise.

Alexandra's eyes grew big as Hestia rounded on them.

"It was you, wasn't it?" Hestia exclaimed.

Tobias immediately put on a very convincing doubtful look on his face. "Come now, Aunt Hestia, do you really think we would _possibly_ be that stupid?"

Hestia smirked at him. "_Yes_!"

Tobias gulped, then smiled winningly. "Well, in that case…_no_."

Albus Dumbledore's eyes twinkled with merriment as Hestia shifted her focus onto the boy's twin sister, realizing that she wasn't going to get anything else out of him.

"_Alexandra_…" she said warningly.

Alexandra couldn't help it. "Alright! Alright! I did it! _Satisfied_?" she cried, cringing at the look on her aunt's face.

"And where---may I ask---did you take---_it_?" said Hestia dangerously.

Alexandra composed herself, trying to keep the smirk from her own voice. "In the kitchen. After you berated me for stealing wands underneath the owners' noses so obviously."

Albus Dumbledore concealed his snort very well, pretending to have meant to cough all along. Hestia looked appalled.

"I knew it! I _knew_ it! I vow to never trust you again, my _dear!_ And I also vow to never hug you or ever show affection again!" she cried haughtily.

It hurt her ego to have had her wand stolen right out from under her nose, as Alexandra had said. She wasn't going to let her niece get away with it.

"Ahem," Albus said oh-so-quietly beside her. "I believe right now wouldn't be the best time to condemn her…she has just recently been told a startling piece of information that I'm sure you ought to be aware of. Perhaps a talk is in order…?"

Hestia looked at him, confused, then made her decision. "Alexandra," she told the girl sternly. "What do you say about this?"

Alexandra, for once, looked meek as she answered. "That I'm guilty as charged. What's my sentence?"

Hestia studied her for a moment. "Go help Marmie finish making your dinner. You and I can have a talk after. And I _will_ be telling your mother about this! Now hop to it, you little toad!"

She reached out and swatted Alexa's bottom as she walked past.

"And you, Tobias----" Hestia turned to the other twin, who was just about to sneak away, but froze in tracks. "Yes, you! Don't think I was going to let you off so easily! I knew that there was no way Alexa would have swiped _my_ wand with your say in the matter, so spill it!"

Tobias looked affronted. "Oy! Now _that's_ an unjust system! What did I ever do to deserve that, I beg of you?"

Albus chuckled. Hestia glared at him before answering Tobias, "_Plenty_! Now talk!"

The boy squared his shoulders, as though preparing for the guillotine.

"For you information," he stated primly. "_I_ did not have a say in the matter about Lex stealing your wand. _She _performed that all by herself, thank you very much, with_out _my help. So all credits, compliments, and punishments go to her."

He smiled cheekily at them before continuing.

"_Also, _just in case you were wondering, your wand is lying in your room at this very moment. Unharmed, unhurt, unsinged…you get the idea----"

There was a blast in the kitchens that made Irene and Balfour finally stop their bickering. Hestia looked down the hall and saw that smoke was trailing out of the kitchens. Tobias hurried on, now saying the words so fast, it took Hestia a while to digest them.

"----and thanks to Lex, who practically blackmailed me into this one, I now have to inform you that it was I, not Dingy, who set off the fireworks (metaphorically speaking), and I, not Dingy, who should get in trouble. But as it seems I'm needed in the kitchen, we'll leave the punishments for later. Agreed? Agreed!"

And with that, he tore off down the hall, away from his aunt.

Hestia stared after him, confused, as Albus chuckled. "Yes, very well, laugh all you want," she said, smiling herself, "but I don't envy you when they're old enough to go to Hogwarts!"

"Yes…that will be interesting. Hopefully, they will behave better than the Weasley twins."

"Albus…what exactly did you mean by 'startling piece of information'?" Hestia asked.

Albus turned to look at her, his blue eyes grave. "She knows about your parents' death, Hestia."

Her eyebrows furrowed. "What…do you _mean_?"

"I mean that I overheard her talking to a portrait on the wall. She was being told about the fact that you witnessed their deaths. By the time I came in, she was in tears. I think it is time that you really need to talk to her…as I was trying to comfort her, she asked questions to which even I do not know the answers."

Hestia put her head in her hands. "_No_! Oh, that poor girl…"

"I have already told her that it is relevant for her to keep what she has been told a secret. She understands and promised that she won't tell anyone unless she has your approval."

Hestia looked up at him. "I understand…oh, _thank_ you, Albus!"

Albus Dumbledore took her hand gently in his own. "You are quite welcome, my dear."

Meanwhile, Morgan was holding her own whispered conversation with Dingy underneath a huddle of blankets. Finally she emerged and asked her mother if she could get the slime off now. It was as Irene was performing the charm that Evander woke up. He looked around sleepily for a few moments before climbing onto his Aunt Hestia's lap.

"Hey there, sleepy head!" Hestia said softly, hugging him.

"Aun' Hestia, I had a dream!" Evander announced.

Hestia drew in her breath. "Oh no…are you okay, Vanny? Did anything bad happen? Tell me all about it…"

Albus Dumbledore watched, confused.

"He has nightmares all the time," Hestia told him. "He often wakes up crying."

"But---but I didn't! It wasn' _very _scary, Aun' Hestia…it…was abou' a dragon…a smokin' dragon…and he looked _funny_!" Evander giggled, remembering.

He looked around him as Hestia sighed in relief. "Where's mister William, Aun' Hestia? Where's he?"

Hestia drew back, surprised. "Why, I---I don't know, Evan…in his gatehouse, I suppose."

Evander bobbed his head up and down. "Good! Because, guess what?"

He leaned in and whispered in her ear so no one could hear them. Albus Dumbledore fiddled his thumbs and hummed merrily.

"He---he---he _was_ the smokin' dragon!" he whispered, giggling delightfully.

Then he scrambled off her lap and scuttled off, crawling underneath Mory's blanket with her.

Hestia chuckled, then sighed. "Wait till Old William hears that one!"

With the twins in the kitchen 'helping' Marmie, and the younger ones holding their own whispered Parliament beneath the covers, the talk turned to the W.I.B.S.

At Dumbledore's invitation, Balfour begrudgingly joined them. Within no time at all, he and the Professor were holding a rather in-depth talk about the new choice for the society's Head.

To Irene's astonishment, Hestia knew quite a lot about the new wizard asked to join, having worked with him when she herself was Head of Department. And much to Hestia's surprise, Irene talked with and about Lord Balfour as though they had never had the argument in the first place. She kept smiling serenely at him and urging him to talk more about the new changes the W.I.B.S was going through.

All too soon, Alexandra and Tobias had raced into the room to inform everyone that dinner was ready and that they would be eating in the dining room.

The adults followed the twins down the hall, while Evander ran as fast as his little chubby legs could carry him to tell his brother and sister all about Old William, the Smoking Dragon. Albus and Balfour were carrying on about things that Hestia didn't bother to keep up with, so she looked at Alexandra and Tobias, who had started laughing hysterically, gasping out between breaths, "Evan…you are…so…_weird_! Old William…the _Smoking Dragon_!" They giggled some more, and Evan jumped up and down excitedly.

_It's good to see that he's forgotten about what happened in the woods, already, _Hestia thought.

But she couldn't understand for the life of her what the twins were so excited about, now. All she could catch from their conversation was that it had something to do with a "high ceiling" and that it would "be perfect for when they…_you know_!"

No, Hestia didn't know. But she got the feeling that shortly thereafter, she would. And it was starting to make her worry.

Dinner was an enjoyable affair.

The dining room did indeed have a high ceiling, from which hung a gleaming chandelier. The chairs were comfortable and high-backed, the oak table nearly as long as the room. At the moment, it was covered with silverware, food, and reaching hands. Marmie had levitated the bowls and pans in from the kitchen, and the table was such a pleasant sight that the children couldn't wait to start making the food disappear.

Chatting amiably, they all started serving themselves. The children kept looking at each other and giggling as they passed around a bowl of fruit salad that none of them took. Irene hardly had time to notice this, though, as Alexandra suddenly complained loudly to her mother about Tobias always elbowing her when he ate. Then, just as she was about to berate Tobias for refusing the pickled soup, Evander clamored for her to cut his meat for him.

Family solidarity was very important to the Rosier children.

Albus Dumbledore, seated in the middle of one side of the table, couldn't help but notice the way the little house-elf named Dingy skirted around him, eyes wide and body plastered against the wall in hopes of blending in with their soft red color. He seemed to be absolutely terrified.

Alexandra saw the Professor looking at the small house-elf and leaned in to talk to him, gesturing him to do the same. When Albus obliged, she whispered, "He's scared of you, you know!"

Professor Dumbledore looked taken aback. "Of me? Why might that be?"

Alexandra stifled a giggle at the look on his face. "Well, I don't know. You _do_ look a bit frightening…I-I mean to someone who doesn't know you, I suppose."

Albus Dumbledore didn't like the idea of a small child (house-elf or human) being afraid of him, so he resolved that by the time the night was over, they'd set aside their differences.

He watched, smiling to himself, as Dingy scrambled up onto his own chair, where large textbooks were piled high in order for him to reach his food and see above the table. His mother, Biddy, tucked a napkin around his neck so he wouldn't spill anything on his little clothes.

Once he was past the threat of 'Prossefor Dummydoor', Dingy was rather animated. He was showing his mother the size of the 'roachies' he encountered just the other day. As he spread his arms as far apart as they would go, he toppled right off the stack of books and out of sight. Concerned, Albus peered over to see if he was all right.

Unfortunately, as soon as Dingy shimmied back up the books again, the first thing he saw was Albus Dumbledore's white hair and beard and tall hat. He gave a frightened squeak and toppled out of sight again, this time bringing the books down with him.

Setting aside their differences, Albus decided, would have to wait for later.

Outside, Old William battled the storm to join them for dinner, with Virgilia at his side. Marmie hadn't found it easy to persuade him. She had firecalled him at his gatehouse where he was lounging about with poor Virgilia, but he'd been adamant about refusing her offer to join them for dinner. It wasn't until she'd resorted to threatening him and calling him names that he finally gave in.

Now that he had, however, he wanted everyone to know that he had resisted every step of the way. There were more important things that could be done on a stormy July night in the Hesperus Mansion. Albus Dumbledore or no.

Thus, he tramped in while everyone was eating, looking very wet, muddy, and very grumpy. Virgilia trailed after him, drenched and whining pitifully.

Lord Balfour immediately tended to his pet. "Poor Virgilia," he murmured as he performed a warming charm on her fur, stopping her from shaking all over the room. "Did your bad master forget you while he was taking care of the little girl. He's very sorry. After all, you saved that little girl, and he went and let you be taken care of by the nasty old grumpy man."

Old William humphed.

"Marmie, do we have a piece of meat left over for her?" Balfour asked the cook. "I think she deserves a special treat for saving Mory."

A plate was brought in for Virgilia and she sat in the corner, devouring the meat contentedly. The diners took turns going to pat her, raining praises on her for her good deed. The children surreptitiously brought her handfuls of their own food that they didn't want, such as Tobias' carrots. Virgilia wagged her tail and ate every bite.

Meanwhile, at the table, Hestia was telling everyone all about the new Chaser the Holy-Head Harpies hired. The sisters' cousin, Gwenog Jones, had told Hestia that she was very excited to start training with their new recruit. The last one had received a very nasty curse to her head during a pick-up game and had been told to 'wait it out' for the next few months.

Old William was scowling and growling at his food, stirring it around his plate resentfully. He had sat down at the only place left at the table: the foot. It suited him just fine, because it was the farthest seat from Balfour. The only downside was that with Balfour sitting at the head of the table, every time they looked up, they stared right into each other's eyes.

Albus Dumbledore, who was two seats down from Old William, tried not to hear what the grumpy wizard was saying to himself, but it was rather hard. So, instead, he turned his attention onto the conversation being held on the other end of the table.

"Balfour?"

"Yes, Toby?"

"How come Virgilia doesn't have any magical powers?"

"How come _you_ don't have any magical powers?"

"Shut up, Lex!"

"Tobias! What have I told you about using that word?"

"Actually, Mum, it's _two_ words----"

"Tobias, I'm warning you----!"

"Sorry! I take it back! Both of them! _Well_, Uncle Balfour?"

Lord Balfour laughed. "You know, I really don't know. I've tried to see what could make her belong in the magical world, but so far, her powers have remained dormant…if she has any."

"Well, I think she's very smart _and_ pretty. She does tons of stuff other dogs don't do. Like Chrissy's pet Chihuahua can twirl in a circle, but he can't stop peeing on her bed---"

"No one asked you, Mory! Eat your vegetables. They're good for you."

"Hypocrite," Alexandra muttered under her breath as Mother rounded on her twin.

"_Tobias_! Stop being so rude! Now apologize to your sister!"

"Sorry, Mory," Tobias said resentfully.

"Like you mean it!" Irene told him.

Tobias threw himself onto the floor in front of his younger sister.

"Oh, dear, dear sister Morgan! Do you think you could ever find it in your heart to forgive me of my awful sins? Condemn me if you must, but please, I beg of you----!"

Irene put her head in her hands. "_Honestly_!"

Evander tugged on his mother's sleeve. "Mummy?"

"Yes, Vanny? And how come you're not eating?"

"What does that mean?"

"What does what mean?"

"What Alexa called Toby?"

Irene looked up. "What did Alexandra call Toby?"

"Yeah! What _did_ Alexandra call Toby?" Tobias turned on his twin.

"I called him a hypocrite," she said, off-handedly.

Everyone turned to look at her.

"What? It's true!"

Balfour let out a bark of laughter. "Ha! She's right, he _is_ a hypocrite if ever I saw one!"

"I take that into offence!" Tobias complained.

"Well, then, don't act like one!" Alexandra replied reasonably.

Albus Dumbledore chuckled and, shaking his head, turned to listen to the other end of the table. They weren't doing much better, if only for the fact that Old William kept grunting after everything that was said. Replying sarcastically to other people's comments was a specialty of his.

"----So we went down to the Atrium together and got on the same lift, and someone called her name. Guess who she was!" Hestia was telling Marmie.

"A smarmy bint, most likely," Old William muttered, stabbing at his meat.

"It was _Rita_! I couldn't believe my eyes! After what she did the last time we met, I should have cursed her for coming to me like that in disguise. The woman's a nutcase! I swear---!"

"Skeeter may be a nutcase, but it's _my_ belief that you top the basket!" Old William whispered savagely, shoveling his pickled soup into his mouth.

"But why would anyone do something like that? It's outrageous!" Marmie complained.

"No…it's actually legal, I looked it up. It said that as long as they don't make any changes to it and say that it's mine, then technically…" Hestia sighed.

"Why? What did Rita Skeeter do, Hestia?" Albus asked pleasantly over Old William, who said, rather rudely, "Och! Legal _my_ arse, you Ministry nitwits!"

Marmie snorted into her pudding. Biddy looked up from her own food to glare at him. Albus was on the verge of blushing behind his beard, but when Hestia---who hadn't heard a word of what her gatekeeper had said---told him what had happened, his expression clouded.

"That isn't right," he said quietly, agreeing with Old William. "That woman gets away with far too much. She was a thorn in our side three years ago after the whole incident with the unicorns. It was all over the papers that the Hogwarts staff was experimenting with the different types of unicorn blood…it will stain Severus' record permanently, I know, and for something he didn't even do…Minerva, Severus, and Rubeus urged me to press charges against her, but, sadly, I refused. How did Ted Tonks take it?"

"He was furious…said it painted me in the worst light imaginable. He even tried to have them take it off, but after all those millions of copies already printed…I figured it wasn't even worth it, you know?"

"Now hold on a minute! Unicorn blood?" Marmie asked Dumbledore, confused.

"Oh, that's right! You were vacationing that year with your sister in Sweden, weren't you? It had all blown over by the time you got back…I had forgotten…" Hestia murmured.

As Albus was telling Marmie the true story, which was all about the misunderstanding between Hogwarts and the _Daily Prophet, _formed by none other than Rita Skeeter, Alexandra and Tobias were watching everyone apprehensively.

"How come it's not happening yet?" Alexandra whispered to her brother.

"I…dunno…I put in the right amount, switching them between two bowls…but, maybe it's just waiting to be digested correctly. Maybe then it'll start working…" Tobias whispered back, puzzled.

"_If_ it starts working at all, you mean!" Alexandra said.

Tobias glared at her, until he caught sight of Old William, who was doing the same thing to his soup. He burst into laughter again, gasping out, "_Smoking Dragon!"_

His sister stared at him, confused. What brought _that_ on?

Balfour looked at them both suspiciously, but a rise at the other end of the table distracted all three of them. Old William, who had heard the story about the unicorn blood too many times before (not to mention being interviewed by Skeeter herself on the subject), was quite put up with everyone ignoring him. At the moment, he was complaining rather loudly about Virgilia.

"Back off, ye lousy mutt!" he snapped, snatching his plate away from her. She was too quick for him, though, and retreated happily into her corner with another piece of meat. "Och! Now lookee there, why don't ye! Stealin' my food and trackin' through my hoose! I've a mind ta go doin' the same ta her, ye know…if it tweren't for that fact that her food's remarkably despicable---!"

The twins watched him turn purple as everyone started laughing at him, Evander the hardest of all. A purple Old William did look remarkably like a dragon, really.

"And how'd you know that, Old William?" Balfour roared good-naturally.

Old William just glared at him. Meanwhile Virgilia, who had finished her chunk of meat already, crept up behind him and started licking the spot the meat had occupied. Old William's face contorted in disgust as he shoved her away, cursing under his breath.

The children shrieked with laughter. "_Virgilia_!"

If steam could come out of a gatekeeper's ears, they would have done so to Old William at this point. He was positively livid, and everyone laughing at him and Virgilia didn't improve things much.

"It's alright, Old William!" Hestia managed to choke out. "Virgilia ought to be kept out of here when we're eating anyway. We can even get you some more meat, as long as you promise me that you're not on a strictly canine diet from now on!"

Marmie sprayed water across the table at this, which evoked more laughter from the children and a chorus of "_Eeewww_!"

"Look! He's got smoke coming out of his ears!" Alexandra cried in astonishment.

Everyone turned to look. At first they all thought it was their imagination, but as they looked closer, Alexandra's statement proved correct. Old William sat before them, his face red and smoke rising above his head.

"He _is_ the smokin' dragon!" Evander squealed in surprise, which made his brother and sisters shout out with laughter some more.

For he was, indeed.

* * *

**_Author's Note: I'm terribly sorry that I couldn't give it to you any sooner. I hope this answers some of your questions...the ones that I couldn't anyway. The next chapter WILL be called 'Floating Bodies', I promise!I hope I can post it before the end of the week, but it may not be as long as you like. This chapter was fourteen pages inMicrosoft...which is a major contrast to 'A Story and a Dream' (the first chapter) whichwas only seven. The way I'm going this story will be about another five chapters long. I've got all the chapter summaries finished already and know where it's going to end up. I just can't wait to start 'The Tempest'!_**

**_Oh, and pat Whydoyouneedtoknow on the computer when you hear from her next. She's the best._**

**_Cheers! Please Read and Review! You know that keeps me going! Love to everyone._**

**_ Hestia Hesperus _**


	9. Floating Bodies

_("Look! He's got smoke coming out of his ears!" Alexandra cried in astonishment._

_Everyone turned to look. At first they all thought it was their imagination, but as they looked closer, Alexandra's statement proved correct. Old William sat before them, his face red and smoke rising above his head._

_"He is the smokin' dragon!" Evander squealed in surprise, which made his brother and sisters shout out with laughter some more._

_He was, indeed.)_

* * *

_**Chapter Nine: Floating Bodies**_

_**

* * *

**_

**_A_**ll of a sudden, everything happened at once.

Albus Dumbledore was chuckling merrily along with everyone else until he felt a tingling sensation over his whole body. He felt very light, as though he carried the weight and mass of a single feather.

_Hmmm…how very odd! I wonder…_

However, he had no time to finish this profound thought, due to the fact that he was now an inch above his chair. "Oh my!" he said.

Everyone turned to look at him. He seemed a bit taller than usual, but the levitation potion settled in his stomach did not seem to want to stop there. He rose several more inches, his knees now touching the bottom of the table. As he rose higher, he gave a tinkling laugh. "Why, I feel as light as a feather!" he said joyfully. This only made everyone laugh harder, which was a very bad idea.

Marmie had ignored Tobias' advice in the kitchens, and dumped an enormous amount of pepper in her bowl of soup. She was going to have to pay for it, now. At the sight of Dumbledore, she let out a roar of surprised laughter, but it wasn't the only thing that came out of her mouth. A great burst of fire shot out over the dinner table, making Dingy, who sat across from her, squeak and fall off his chair for the third time that night.

Marmie, just as surprised as everyone else, clamped her hand over her mouth. Old William guffawed, Hestia snorted, and Tobias roared with laughter at the look on her face. Balfour was laughing so hard that smoke started to come out of his nose.

Albus Dumbledore rose higher and higher until he floated just above the table, chortling all the while. "I haven't flown in fifty years! This is quite marvelous, is it not?" His robes draped beneath him, nearly falling into the pudding. He floated higher still until he floated more than ten feet above their heads. He reached over and readjusted a light on the chandelier.

Irene watched him floating above her head, feeling very lightheaded herself, until suddenly, Professor Dumbledore didn't seem so high after all. She uttered a small scream as she realized that she, too, was floating higher…higher…higher…with a gasp, she reached down for an anchor. The chair she grabbed hold of, however, only rose with her.

"Mummy!" Evander tried to reach her but failed. Irene grasped her chair tightly, for fear of falling right onto all the food spread out on the table.

Alexandra watched the aerial ballet above her with envy. She dumped buckets of fruit salad onto her plate and started shoveling it into her mouth.

"How's the view, Professor?" Balfour called up.

"Oh, it's quite enchanting, thank you! Perhaps you'd care to join us?" Albus Dumbledore answered. His tall hat was now brushing the high ceiling twenty feet above their heads. Irene and her chair floated around uneasily somewhere around his ankles.

"Hey, Morgan, watch this!" Tobias said in an undertone. He took a deep breath, and when he blew out again through his mouth, puffy smoke rings drifted out, one after the other. Morgan giggled and clapped her hands in delight.

"Hey! Not until you're older, scally-wag!" Balfour said from behind them. Morgan jumped and Tobias coughed, choking on the smoke. Lord Balfour clapped him on his back. "Glad I'm not _your_ mother!"

Beside them, all the food Alexandra stuffed in her mouth was paying off. She grinned in delight as she shot up out of her chair and past her mother in her seat, until she bobbed up and her head hit the ceiling.

"Ow!" she said, rubbing her head.

Everyone laughed at her, and Irene looked up. "Alexandra! You be _careful_! We don't know how long the effects last!"

Hestia turned to Toby. "_Do we_?"

Tobias coughed. A jet of smoke shot out. "Erm…well, actually…you know, I think that it…er…that it depends, you see…"

"Depends on _what_?" Irene said threateningly from above.

"Well, I'd guess on how much you ate, how fast you ate it, _when_ you ate it," Balfour said reasonably, "and how big or small you are."

"Why does it matter how _small _you are?" Alexandra asked near the ceiling. She was scooting along, heading for the long windows covering the opposite wall.

"Because your digestive system works a lot differently than Professor Dumbledore's. They go at different rates and speeds, so naturally, you'll both have the potion out of your system at different times," Lord Balfour explained.

He spotted Tobias sneaking looks at the pot and snatched away the fruit salad bowl and the pot full of pickled soup. "I think I should take _these_ for now!"

At once, Marmie and Tobias started complaining.

"Hey, watch it! That is perfectly good soup! Just because this _nuthead_ here messed it up----!"

"I didn't mess it up! I _improved_ it! And _I_ never got a chance to eat any of the fruit! Give it back!"

"_No_!" Balfour said.

Virgilia howled a lament for the perfectly good pickled soup. A slim stream of black smoke trailed out of her mouth.

"Alexandra! Don't you _dare_ open that window!" Irene called out.

"I wasn't!"

"My, my, I'm not quite sure flying agrees with me any more. I'm beginning to feel a bit queasy…"

Everyone below looked up in alarm. Albus Dumbledore _did_ look a bit green.

"Oh, no, no, no! Fly in _that_ direction! I've still got a plateful of good food, don't ruin it!" Tobias shouted. He picked up his plate, hesitated, then took the basket of rolls as well, and hurried out of the room.

"Toby, you'd better bring those back, or I'll---I'll----" Alexandra threatened her twin.

Tobias called from the hallway, where he had now taken up residence. "Or _what_? You'll aim a kick at me? You can't do very much in that position, I'm afraid…looks like I'll be eating these by my onesy ickle self!"

Everyone else, meanwhile, was too occupied by Albus Dumbledore's pronouncement to care about whom ate all the rolls. The kids dove for cover, while Marmie immediately thought of her good food and started clearing the table hastily…just in case. Irene couldn't do anything at all in her chair, which was now stationed beside the large China hutch in the corner. She thought about just hopping aboard it instead, but if she let go of the chair, it would fall with a thud, and Biddy was right beneath her.

Hestia just looked up at her dear old friend in dismay. "Oh, Albus…at the rate you're going, you will never have a quiet dinner again! I hope you know that! Do you regret coming here _now?_"

Albus put a hand to his mouth, his usually apricot face colored with a sickly green.

"On the contrary, Hestia," he replied weakly.

Old William, who was trying to keep a civilized grumpy face, struggled hard not to chuckle. "Now, _this_ is wha' I came oop here to see!"

Balfour ignored Morgan's and Evan's shrieks as they scrambled underneath the table for cover. "Don't worry, Professor, I'll get you down!" Balfour stood up, but even he couldn't reach the Headmaster, who had drifted further up as the potion settled elsewhere in his body.

Watching the entertainment with glee, Old William turned to the young house-elf beside him. "Ye'd better move, sire. He's righ' above _you_ now!"

Dingy squeaked when he looked up. He tried to scramble away, but Biddy pinned him down with the bib over his clean shirt. "No, Dingy!" she said forcefully in her small voice. "You have to eat your vegetables, now. There's no reason to be scared of Prossefor! He's a good wizard!"

Dingy just clung to her, looking up at Dumbledore apprehensively.

Alexandra was having the time of her life. At first she started swimming from one end of the room to the other, then she crept along the ceiling upside-down. Now, with her legs wrapped tightly around the curtain rod, she was trying to maneuver herself onto the top of the large China hutch that occupied the corner. She had just seen an object of interest.

"Hey, Toby!"

Tobias poked his head into the doorway of the hall, where he had retreated in his haste. "Wot?"

Below her, there was a mass of confusion and chaos. Dumbledore was hovering only feet above the table; Aunt Hestia, Uncle Balfour, and Marmie were trying to clean everything out from under him, lest the potion ceased to work and he fell in the food. Old William was just watching them all with jovial laughter, while Morgan and Evan squealed from beneath the table. Biddy and Dingy looked upon all from their stack of books with trepidation.

"You know that one time, like, a year ago, when Aunt Hestia first got this place?"

"Yyyeesss…" he answered slowly.

"When we tried to find out if we could Summon things through closed windows?"

"Yyyeesss…"

"…So we stole Evan's Magi-Monitor because we couldn't find anything else that was the same size?"

"Yyyeesss…"

"And then, when we tried it, we broke the window because all the furniture came crashing through it?"

"Yyyeesss…"

"Then Dad got mad 'cause we lost the monitor and couldn't find it again?"

"Yyyee----no."

Alexandra rounded on him. "That's because _you _blamed it all on me just because _you_ had an alibi and I didn't! So _I_ got in trouble!"

Tobias sighed, exasperated. She had finally stopped bugging him about it eight months ago. Why'd she have to bring it back up again? "Your point _being_…?"

"My point _being _that I think I found it!"

She fished around the numerous Exploding Snap cards, melted candy, and the broken whirring Yo-yos that used to be able to 'travel' all over the room, until she finally held up a small, blue object.

It was just smaller than her hand and was shaped like an ear. It used to be used for whenever Evan had a nightmare and woke up screaming. In their house, no one could hear him outside of his and Morgan's room, so Dad got the Magi-Monitor so Mum would be able to hear him and go to him when he needed her. It was supposed to belong in a set, with the one half in his room and the other, oddly shaped like a mouth, in his parents' room. Then, when he cried, the sound would go into the ear on his bed and magically come out of the mouth Mum and Dad had.

When Alexandra and Tobias lost the ear-piece, Dad was furious because they had cost a lot of money and the Ministry stopped making them for something newer and better and, of course, more expensive.

The twins always thought it a shame that they didn't lose the mouthpiece instead, because then they could have gone all over the Mansion calling through the ear until they heard their echo coming back to them through the mouth.

"_Whoa_! So _that's_ where it went!" Tobias exclaimed. "No wonder we could sometimes hear a small clanking noise coming from the toy box! It's because Marmie would be setting the table and we could hear it _through_ the Magi-Monitor!"

Alexandra smiled smugly.

Just then, Tobias spotted where Balfour put the pot of pickled soup. He hurried off, a gleam in his eye.

Alexandra was just about to put the ear in her pocket when there was a loud _bang! _And she lurched, falling off the top of the large China hutch. She only plummeted a few feet before the Levitation Potion kicked up again, but the ear-piece slipped right out of her hand and fell down into a half open drawer near the bottom.

"_Blimey_!" Alexandra whispered.

The explosion, meanwhile, had created quite a stir. It appeared to have come from the most obvious source in the Hesperus Mansion: Tobias.

"It wasn't me!" he said automatically. And for once, he was right. He had been bending over the pot of pickled soup, just about to ladle some into his bowl, when Balfour elbowed a few jars of herbs on the shelf along the wall in his haste to get the Professor, who was now bobbing against the chandelier. A jar labeled _Ground Cumin_ hadtumbled right into the pot. Thus, the explosion.

Tobias, who had been closest, got the full blast of it. His face resembled charcoal and his clothes had been singed. The dark curls which had once hung mischievously into his eyes now stuck straight up while smoke sizzled around him.

Poor Dingy was quite frightened by it as well. Being so light, he was blown right off the stack of books, crashing into Albus Dumbledore. Before he could drop down into the pitcher of water on the table underneath him, he held on as tight as he could to Albus' robes and shimmied up his body.

Surprised, Albus chuckled, holding on to the small house-elf as Dingy clutched his beard, shivering. "There, there, young one," he whispered, patting Dingy's head. "You're safe up here."

Dingy suddenly looked up, squeaking in fright when he saw just whom it was exactly he was clinging on to. He tried to pull away at first, until he realized how high up they were.

"You're safe up here," Albus repeated softly.

Irene, in her chair, dropped lower and lower. "Finally," she sighed.

Balfour had already given up on trying to get the three floaters down, or maintaining order and peace in the dining room. He plopped down onto his own chair and took a stab at his meat. "Evan, Mory, you done eating?" he asked the two on the ground.

"I've eaten my meats _and _my veggies! I wanna play now!" Evan cried.

"And I don't wantto eat _my_ veggies!" Morgan said from underneath his chair. "They came from the garden! I helped _plant_ them, I'm not gonna _eat_ them! Is it safe to come out now?"

Balfour looked up. "Yes, Mory, it's safe. He's coming down now."

"Hurray!"

Hestia knelt next to an excited Tobias, rubbing gently at the marks on his face.

"Did you see that explosion, Aunt Hestia? It was _brilliant_!"

"Yes, I saw it. I saw _you_ get a face full! Why did you have to have your face so close to the pot, Toby? Ooh…here's some more cucumber bits, next to your ear. Hold still, you!" She tried to pick the gooey stuff out of his hair.

"But it hurts!"

"Well, you need to be treated for burns! That soup was hot and it splashed all over you. And that's not to mention the fact that the fire that exploded out of it licked your face as well."

Marmie and Biddy had just finished putting everything away when Irene landed, sitting in her chair atop the middle of the table.

"All hail! The Queen has landed! Clear the runway!" Balfour shouted into the room, cupping his hands over his mouth. He reached up and offered her his hand.

"Milady," he bowed, escorting her off the table. With a flick of his wand, her chair flew off the table and righted itself in its original place.

"Why, thank you, kind sir!" Irene graciously accepted. As soon as her feet hit the plush carpet, Evander ran over and bowled himself into her, throwing his arms around her legs.

"Mum!" he said happily, cherishing her name.

"Evan!" she responded, bending to kiss his head.

"Mum!" said another someone, wrapping her arms tight around her mother's waist.

"Morgan!"

"_Mum!_"

"_Alexandra_?" Irene cried, staring up at the newest voice.

"Help me!" Alexa shrieked. She had been floating peacefully in the middle of the ceiling when the potion had lost its strength. Because she had wolfed it down all at once, it now left her all at once.

It was a strange sensation. Before, she'd felt so light it made her giddy; now, however, everything came crashing around her at once. Her insides dropped, her heart plummeted, her body felt as heavy as lead.

Then she fell. Before she could get very far, however, she stuck out her hands and grabbed hold of the chandelier. Everyone looked up her hanging from the swinging chandelier, dangling fifteen feet above the table. She was slipping…she couldn't hang on for much longer…

Just as she let go, Balfour, far below her, whipped out his wand and shouted.

"_IMPEDIMENTA!" _

At once, Alexandra hung motionless in thin air. Below her, everyone was holding their breaths. Irene looked absolutely white and more liable to faint than Albus at the moment.

Balfour guided Alexandra's body to safe ground, using the _Mobilicorpus_. Irene hurried forth to hug her, but Alexandra was unable to move until Uncle Balfour said the counter-charm for his Impediment Jinx.

Meanwhile, Albus Dumbledore was slowly drifting down, chatting amicably with Dingy. When the potion finally wore off, Albus was sitting atop Dingy's chair, books and all, with the small house-elf on his lap, talking happily with him.

* * *

With everyone jovial, exhausted, and completely full (or else having lost their appetites), dinner came to a lingering end. There was a great deal of laughter as everyone recalled the past events. Hestia kept chuckling at the fact that her sister brought a chair up with her as she floated around, and Balfour gave accurate imitations of Professor Dumbledore frog-swimming through the air. Old William kept up a fiendish laugh as Tobias was fussed over by his mother, while Alexandra related to Mory how it felt, flying…not that Alexandra had never done it before, but she couldn't remember the last time very well. 

Too soon, though, Albus became grave again at the thought of what he had to tell them. As enjoyable as the evening had been, he knew it couldn't last.

The children were all told to go and play while the adults talked, an idea that didn't suit them in the least. Immediately, they started complaining and griping, voicing their opinions.

"But we _want_ to stay!"

"We wanna hear what's the matter with Daddy!"

"You _always_ make us leave! Just because we're _kids_!"

"I wanna stay with _you_, Mummy!"

Irene sighed at their outburst. "_No_. You can't stay in here, now leave! It's nearing bedtime. By the time I come up there you all need to have your teeth cleaned and jammies on, okay? Now scoot!"

"But _Mum_!"

"Tobias, what did I say? If there is anything about your father that I think you need to hear, I'll tell you, all right? But now is not the time!" Irene said forcefully.

She herded them all out the door, giving her youngest a kiss on his head. "I'm sorry, Evan, but Mummy can't be with you right now, okay? I'll come in and tuck you all into bed. And Biddy will be watching you to make sure there's no funny business. So be nice to each other, and don't give her any trouble."

As soon as the children were out, with Biddy and Dingy following, the adults righted the dining room, fixing the chandelier, table, chairs, and curtains. The burn marks on the floor vanished and Hestia conjured some more comfortable chairs for them all to relax in.

Outside, the storm had abated; the wind was less now, and the thunder rumbled only in the distance. Lightning flashed every few minutes, illuminating the grounds in white light, while rain still fell as steadily as before onto the flooded grounds.

Albus, Hestia, Irene, Balfour, Marmie, and Old William all sat down at the oak table. The lights around them grew dim, leaving flickering shadows dancing across their faces as Albus began to speak.

* * *

_**Author's Note**: Cliffhangers, cliffhangers...they are admirable objects, are they not? They are such fun! But just so you know, I WAS going to be nice. When I first mapped this chapter out, I was going to cut it sometime _during_ their 'talk' instead of before it. But then I had the funnest time writing the dinner scene, with all of the 'floating bodies', and I just couldn't keep myself from adding more stuff on to it...but I know that you all love me for it! I suppose you are just going to have to wait!__(Unless you're like Mistress Editor, who I am sure stays behind a few chapters just for this reason!)_

_Ah...yes...I almost forgot...Earlier in the chapter, where Marmie comments on what Tobias told her about the spices in the kitchen...I just wanted to let you know that one ofmy reasons for getting you this chapter late last time was because of that. You see, last Saturday I wrote for more than three hours, only to have my computer _freeze_ on me! (Stupid, lousy, biased, damnable things!) So I lost everything I had written that morning. _

_I was devasted. I was at a complete lost. You will never know how much I go through every week just to have each chapter posted asthe next seven days end. With juggling everything I have on my platter...let's just say that I was near tears when I found out how much I had lost._

_I rewrote most of it, of course...though none as good as the first copy. But there were two scenes I had left out. One featured Old William and Virgilia in the Gatehouse (I skimmed through that in my final draft...the part where O.W. walks in the dining room), and the scene in which Tobias runs into the kitchens after hearing the explosion. In that scene, we find out what exploded and why...about spices and such...But I just couldn't rewrite either of them._

_ANYWAY! If you would really, really, REALLY like to see these two scenes...I suggest you beg.Beg and plead with me, because, otherwise, I'm not doing it. (Though it really was a good scene!)_

_But, cheers! And, of course, give a wonderful round of applause for my amazing beta Miss Whydoyouneedtoknow! She's the best, honestly! And, just so you know...this chapter was...is...the BOMB! I had the absolutely best time writing it! I just hope that you all have had the best time reading it! And don't forget to REVIEW!_

_Love, Hestia_


	10. The Mugwump

**_(Previously on "Of Mugwumps and Toadstools":_**

_Outside, the storm had abated; the wind lessened and the thunder was now rumbling in the distance. Lightning flashed every few minutes, illuminating the grounds in white light while the rain still fell as steadily as before onto the flooded grounds._

_Albus, Hestia, Irene, Balfour, Marmie, and Old William all sat down at the oak table. The lights around them grew dim, leaving flickering shadows dancing across their faces._

_Then Albus opened his mouth and began to speak.)_

_

* * *

_

**Chapter Ten: The Mugwump**

**_

* * *

_**

**_Albus Dumbledore_** was a man of many talents, a wizard of infallible faults, and a sorcerer of insurmountable wisdom.

He had seen many things, fought in many battles, encountered many adversaries; he was loved by all, respected by all, revered by all.

He had received the Order of Merlin, First Class, for defeating one of the most feared wizards for over a hundred years. He was Grand Sorcerer over Britain, Supreme Mugwump of the International Confederation of Wizards, Chief Warlock of the Wizengamot, Headmaster of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry...

Yet, despite his many titles, as he sat before the members of the Hesperus household, he looked, for the first time since Lord Voldemort's downfall, as if he was at a complete loss for words. Finally, he began. "As I related earlier, what I must speak with you about concerns your husband, Irene."

"But you said he had come to no harm," Irene stated.

Albus Dumbledore looked into the eyes of those gathered around him. They trusted him…they trusted his opinion. Must he sacrifice their trust in order to relay the truth?

He sighed, concern and worry etched into the very lines of his face.

"What I must tell you is of a far graver nature than that."

* * *

The children had all changed into their pajamas, had their hands and faces scrubbed clean of any remains of food or burns (Tobias was still rubbing his sore cheeks), and were now ready for bed. This usually took longer, but tonight, it only took five minutes, because that the twins were planning something, and that something meant they wanted to go to bed as quickly as possible.

At the moment, they were whispering to each other while Evander and Morgan opened their mouths obediently for Biddy as she Scourgified the inside of them.

"----no…see, I think I know another way----"

"----but if it _is_ in there, then----"

"----then there's no way they'd be able to----"

"----to know, yeah, but if it _isn't----"_

"----but it has to be! I remember, cause last week----"

Evan and Morgan squealed happily, interrupting the twins' talk as Biddy moved forward to clean their mouths and teeth as well.

With the inside of their mouths frothing with bubbles, Evan and Morgan gurgled on their own spit, nearly choking through their giggles. They tried talking to each other, but with their mouths so full, it was hard to tell what they were saying. Finally Morgan composed herself long enough to try to sing.

_Oohhh! Once dere was a siddy pud _

_Who cimbed and cimbed up when he could_

_Who t'ied to weach da fuzzy couds_

_An' bing the siddy bowdies dow'd!_

Tobias and Alexandra, once they had the bubbles Scourgifying around their own mouths, began to sing as well. The song was one their mother and Aunt Hestia had made up when they had to get their teeth cleaned as well. Now, the kids looked forward to tooth-cleaning time, if only to be able to sing the old song and make up new songs of their own.

Biddy just smiled and shook her head. They did this every single night without fail, and yet, they never got tired of it!

She turned to her own little elflet, who blinked sleepily, teetering on the edge of the counter. He had had a very long day; first, he'd been told off by Marmie about the Dungbombs he had let off that morning; then he had created mayhem with the fireworks and was told off for _that. _And that was not even mentioning his fear of the Proseffor, then, later, floating around the room _on_ the very same wizard!

There was a scramble as the children finally got tired of singing, spat in the sink---accidentally getting a bit on themselves as well---and raced each other to their beds.

"I got in first! I got in first!" Morgan exclaimed.

"Nah-ah! I beat you!" Tobias stuck his tongue out.

"Does it count if I touched it first?" Alexandra asked.

"_No_!" several voices chorused.

Evander sat atop his own blue blankets and hugged his stuffed turtle tightly. "_Topples_! D'you miss me? Huh?"

Dingy finally gave out and fell into the sink with a small thud, snoring lustily. Biddy smiled and picked him up, carrying him gently out of the room. As she dimmed the lights and wished them good night, she snapped her fingers, and the toys littering the room flew back to their proper places.

Morgan giggled as a few of her dolls zoomed out from underneath her covers to right themselves on her small shelf. Evander sneezed when his older brother's socks fell from his canopy and onto his head.

"Nighty-night, Biddy!" they called, rubbing their eyes sleepily and yawning.

However, as soon as the door closed, Toby and Alexa shot right back up again.

"It's over here!" Alexa whispered. Evan and Mory watched wide-eyed as their older sister and brother tore across the room to the toy box in-between the younger kids' beds. One by one, toys flew over the twins' heads to land on the previously cleaned floor. When Alexandra threw a large bouncing ball behind her, it bounced off of the dresser and landed on the toy Hogwarts Express, knocking it over loudly.

They paused, waiting to hear if Biddy was coming, but she obviously hadn't heard, so Toby turned to his sister and said loudly, "_Ssssshhhhh!"_

Alexa rolled her eyes and dug back into the box. Toys flew across the room as the twins burrowed deeper and deeper. When Mother had moved all of their stuff from the Rookery to the Mansion, she'd packed all of their toys into the box, making it all magically fit. Now there just didn't seem to be a bottom.

Finally, Alexandra found what she was looking for. In her hand she held up a small toy mouth which was humming slightly---the other half of the Magi-Monitor.

"Got it!" she crowed.

Toby, Evan, and Mory gathered on the floor around her as she blew on it to clear the dust away. At once the humming grew louder until they could hear voices, but it wasn't loud enough to hear what they were saying.

"Whassat?" Evan whispered.

"Aren' we suppose' to be _sleeping_?" Morgan said softly.

"Nope!" Tobias said. "We're gonna see what they're talking about. I wanna know!"

"Bu'…bu' they said----" Morgan started.

"_Sssshhhh!" _Alexandra whispered sharply. She held the mouth close to her ear and sighed in frustration. "I can't hear! It's too soft…maybe the magic's getting too old…"

"Here, hand it over," said Tobias, but Alexa jerked it out of his reach.

"No! I had the idea _and _I found it!"

"Hey! Listen!"

The mouthpiece, which was now closer to the dresser, had suddenly got louder.

"Look, see?" Tobias whispered. "It must be closer to the dining room over there or summat. That's why----"

"----We can hear it better!" Alexandra finished excitedly. She scooted closer to Toby's dresser, holding the Magi-Monitor further out.

And they could hear. Bits and snatches of the grown-ups' conversation drifted out of the magical mouth. The kids gathered around, listening intently.

"…It first began when I was here last, and I remembered you telling me, Irene, about your husband's absence…" Professor Dumbledore was saying.

Just then, the children heard a chair scraping against the floor and Uncle Balfour's voice. "Hold up a minute, Dumbledore. Perhaps it would be better to cast a Silencing Charm…you know, in case certain little ears are listening…"

The children gasped, their eyes growing wider.

* * *

Downstairs, Balfour cast his wand about the room, over the floor, the walls, the ceiling, and then---he hesitated, glancing out at the stormy weather uncertainly---the windows as well.

"All set," he said, moving back over to the table.

If he had known what the children were up to at that very moment, however, he would have remedied his error, which was leaving a few of the largest pieces of furniture unsilenced, including the China hutch.

The children let out a collective sigh, then settled in to listen. Professor Dumbledore was speaking again.

"…What I heard you say about John struck me as odd, Irene. Certainly the goblins didn't tax their workers as hard as you told me John was being taxed, I thought. Even with the knowledge that he is the wizard-in-charge of the Beast Controller division at Gringotts, it seemed positively ridiculous that he was called on so many missions."

Irene shifted in her chair, as though she was about to add something, but thought better of it. For once, even Old William was silent.

"I decided to ask a dear friend of mine who works at the bank to see if he could have a look around. To search out why John's immediate superior assigned him to every case that came in. Quietly, of course," Dumbledore added. Balfour nodded knowingly.

"But who…who _is_ your friend?" Hestia asked him.

Albus suddenly looked stern behind his normally twinkling eyes. "I cannot divulge that. Just know that he is very close and I trust him deeply.

"Now my…confidante, is the better word…" he continued slowly, "agreed to help me investigate the matter at hand, even though it meant great personal risk to himself. He began to inquire about John Rosier to his co-workers and those above him. At first, all he heard were bits and pieces---just the basics, such as how widely known he is, that he is the best at his job, and that the goblins admire him greatly."

Albus leaned forward, folding his hands and resting his elbows on the tabletop. "This last bit caught my friend as rather remarkable, because goblins are extremely hard to please. Getting a number of them to admire you for your work is very rare."

"Aye, i's rare!" Old William butted in. "Me friend can' even get a decen' trade when he goes into business wit' them! They joos grunt at it an' walk away, complainin' on hoo bad it is!"

Marmie glared at him for interrupting, but Dumbledore nodded. "Yes, you're quite right," he said. "The goblins have learned never to trust wizards over the years. So my friend continued asking around, asking only those who were quite careless with what they told others. 'Why is Rosier needed so much?' he asked. 'Certainly there are other wizards who can take on these missions instead?'

"At first, he told me, no one would give him a straight answer, until he went to John Rosier's immediate head----"

"Harmgryph," Irene finished for him.

Albus inclined his head in her direction. "Harmgryph. It was then that my friend struck gold. The goblin was reluctant at first, but after some, shall I say, judicious monetary persuasion, he decided to relate all that he knew, breaking Gringotts custom of keeping one's mouth shut about such personal matters."

Irene, Hestia, Balfour, Marmie, and Old William waited with bated breath while Albus Dumbledore paused.

He looked very grave indeed and seemed to be quite reluctant to tell them what exactly it was that Harmgryph knew about John Rosier. He stroked his beard and looked around at them all over his half-moon glasses. Lightning flashed outside and the rain fell harder than ever before. The long candles on the table flickered wildly as a gust of wind seeped through the smallest of cracks.

Professor Dumbledore cleared his throat and continued. "Harmgryph told my friend that John Rosier was secured for all of these missions for a reason. The foreign ministries and other countries only call in Gringotts teams when they cannot do the job themselves, and they need the best to do it. So they ask for the best man to do the job; this being, of course, your husband, Irene.

"Now, you told me that ever since John was first promoted in 1988, he began going on more and more missions. He was gone all day at work, and became increasingly needed in the field. Most of these missions were, in fact, ones that he went on alone."

"Yes…" Irene whispered. "He told me that much."

"But what he didn't tell you…in fact, what he never told anyone due to strict policies, was what happened on those missions. During those first years, it was John's whole team who went out. Sometimes, the missions went splendidly: they were able to tame whatever rampaging beast was misbehaving, they were able to save whatever treasure the animals were supposed to be guarding.

"They went so splendidly, that it wasn't until late last year that the Goblin Authorities noticed anything strange. They were so used to the praises they had gotten for their Beast Controller division that they didn't even think that the problems they were having might possibly come from them."

"Problems? What do you mean?" Balfour asked suspiciously.

"Problems that are bound to happen with such an organization as the Gringotts Bank." Albus went on. "The goblins, in fact, fear these problems so much that they are very stingy about who they do business with and which wizards they hire. Problems such as stolen treasures, foreign rebellions and boycotts against goblin work…problems such as missing Sphinxes, dragons, and Chimaeras…and of everything that could break free from the enchantments guarding it, and disappear _entirely _from the Wizarding radar, those are possibly the worst creatures imaginable."

He looked around at them all somberly. "You do _not_ want those kinds of creatures loose in the world."

Irene looked confused. "But…I still don't understand what all this has to do with John."

"This has _everything_ to do with John," Albus said, standing up. "The treasures that were stolen, the beasts that went missing…they all happened when _John Rosier_ went on those missions."

Irene stared at him, her mouth half-open. Lord Balfour jerked up, Hestia gasped audibly, Marmie's cup of tea clanked loudly onto the table, and Old William blinked in surprise.

"Weel…tha' was unexpected!" he said.

Hestia glanced at her sister, then asked, "But you can't mean…I mean they _can't----"_

Albus nodded somberly. "They do, Hestia. And as much as I hate to admit it…I think I do, as well."

Irene stood up suddenly. "No! It can't be…they must be wrong, Dumbledore. It has to be someone else, John _wouldn't_!"

Dumbledore walked over to Irene Rosier, his eyes never leaving hers. "Do you honestly _know_ what he would or would not do at work, Irene? You never see him anymore, your children never see him anymore…you told me yourself that you were concerned that his work might not be what he says it is, that he is _keeping_ something from you----"

"But not _this_! Anything but this! Even if he wasn't gone a lot…even if I haven't seen what I have already…I just…it's just…not _possible_!" She raised a shaky hand to her face and wiped away a tear.

Albus Dumbledore moved towards her, hand extended. His eyes softened, and when he talked, it was in the gentlest of tones. "I know you don't want to believe it. And you're right…it might even be someone else. He might be completely innocent…but you _have_ to face the possibility that he really has done those tings, Irene. For your own sake."

Irene stared out of the window, at the frightening gale outside. A few remaining fireworks exploded in the distance.

_He wouldn't…John _couldn't_ have done those things! It must be someone else…it _has _to be someone else! He's my husband! He…he promised me that those things were in the past. I told him I would never doubt him again, after…after everything that had happened. It just…it _can't_ be true!_

She turned towards Professor Dumbledore.

"I need proof," she said.

Dumbledore studied her face, her searching eyes. "Are you sure?"

She nodded. "Yes…yes, I am. Whatever you tell me cannot be worse than this."

"All right," the Headmaster said softly. "I shall tell you, then…"

* * *

Upstairs, the children were sprawled on the floor around the Magi-Monitor, listening intently.

Evander fingered his stuffed turtle's shell. "Is Mummy gonna tuck us in?" he whispered.

"Yeah, Evan, now be quiet," Tobias said.

"Is Daddy alright?" Morgan asked loudly.

"_Yes_! At least…er…I think so…"

Alexa turned to her twin brother. "Toby? I don't really get it. What did Daddy do?"

Tobias studied a small catch on the rug. "I think…I think what they mean, is that…that the goblins Daddy works with don't trust him anymore."

"Does _Mum_ trust him anymore?" she asked.

"I dunno. She sounds like she wants to, but doesn't know yet."

"But should we trust Daddy? Did he do something bad? Is he gonna get in trouble for it?" Alexandra persisted.

"I don't _know_!" Tobias said, frustrated. "From the way they're talking, it sounds like he did something really bad. But Mum said it might not be him who did it."

Evan looked up, alarmed. "But I chust him! I chust him bunches!"

"Doesn't Mummy still love Daddy?" Morgan asked fearfully.

"Yeah," Toby reassured her. "Don' worry, she loves him. And he still loves us, so that means that we can love him back."

Alexandra turned over onto her back and looked up at the ceiling.

"It's like…like when you stole that cookie, Mory," she said. "Remember? Mum said we could only have one, and then when she wasn't looking, you took two."

"I 'member," Morgan said mournfully.

"Well, that's how she feels about Daddy. She was mad that you took two, and you had to go sit in the Corner for it, but when your time was up then she said that she loved you and only wanted you to be happy and do what she said." Alexandra explained, "That's how it is with Daddy. He does something naughty and has to get…erm…wha's that word, Toby?"

"Disciplined."

"Yes, disciplined. He has to get disciplined for it, but after he does then she's gonna hug him and say that she loves him and just wants him to do what he's told and be happy about it. Just like how she does with us, really. Grown-ups aren't all _that_ different."

"Bu'…bu' Daddy doesn't _get _in trouble like kids do!" Morgan protested.

Tobias just shrugged, "Well, maybe this is a first. Like Evan doesn't get in trouble as often as me an' Lex do. Maybe Dad's just not good at getting in trouble."

"Sh!" hissed Alexa, waving them to silence. "They're talking again!"

* * *

Hestia watched as Albus Dumbledore sat down heavily in his chair. He smoothed his long, silver beard, then folded his hands on the table and looked at Irene.

"It was on the Grecian Mission when things first went wrong. The Goblin Authorities think that it may have started even before then, but they have no proof that the two things are linked," he told them.

Irene didn't hear any of it. She was still stuck on that first sentence. _Grecian mission…the Grecian mission…the Long-Lost Temple of Athos…Chimaeras rampaging…those bloody Grecian warlords…John leaving on Christmas Day…_

She sat up. "_The _Grecian Mission?"

Albus Dumbledore nodded. "The one and only."

"But…but what happened? John didn't say anything when he came back, but he acted rather odd, like something had…" Irene furrowed her brow, thinking about that day two-and-a-half years ago.

"It was thought for a long while that the Chimaeras broke loose from their enchantments, but after investigating the matter thoroughly enough, it was found that they were instead _released_----"

"But he couldn't have!" Irene broke in, "That was the longest he had vacationed with us for a while, I remember. He got the call on Christmas Eve and left in the morning. He wouldn't have had the _time_ to travel there by Portkey----"

"Which is why they never even began to be suspicious until later on, a full two years later," Albus continued resolutely. "Every time he went on a mission, something happened."

Irene was shaking his head, pressing against the corners of her eyes to keep from crying. It couldn't, it just couldn't be true…

"Most of the times, it was just a small mishap: a Sphinx disobeyed her captors and changed her riddle a full two weeks ahead, just in time for them to not be able to enter for some reason. Or a Minotaur behaved out of the norm and charged at John's team when they were about to collect some pile of gold he was guarding as well. Those were just the little things that no one thought twice about. Of course, the division never linked any of them to their leader, because he did _such_ a good job of getting them out of trouble again…almost _too _good, in fact."

"…Like it had all been set up and he was a part of it," Lord Balfour said.

"_Exactly_," Albus nodded appreciatively. "Now, on second look, it could have been about anyone in the division. Unknown to them, however, the higher Goblin Authorities are now looking into the business. It is very clear to them that they have a bug working on the _inside_."

Old William furrowed his brow. "An' wot's insects got to do wit' banks?"

"No, no, my dear Master Rhum, you misunderstood me. Forgive me, it is a Muggle phrase that I have adopted for this very use. A bug on the inside, you see, means that you have a double-agent, someone causing problems while posing as one of Gringotts' very own…in this case, as they now believe John Rosier is doing, and _has_ been doing for quite a number of years."

Irene sighed, frustrated. "But you said that it _could _have been one of his co-workers! It might not be him at all, it just looks like it was. Perhaps someone even framed him!"

"Yes, Irene, I know!" Albus Dumbledore said sharply, his eyes blazing. "Believe me when I say that it is _vitally _important that we prove him innocent if, indeed, he _is_! You don't believe he did it and I most certainly do not want to believe he did it, but what _we_ think does not matter in this case! It is what the Higher Goblins have looked into and believe is true; it is what _they _think that will be his final judgement!"

"What do you mean?" Irene asked sharply.

"Goblins have different ways on figuring out if what a wizard _says_ is true happens _not_ to be. They have different _methods. _If they find that he has been doing these things to Gringotts Bank then, by the gods, you do _not _want to be in any way associated with him when they come for him!"

Everyone stared white-faced at their guest. His words had hit them all like one of the lightning bolts flashing outside.

Could what he was saying be true? Was John really that far in with the goblins? _Did _he really do it?…Or was he framed, as Irene seemed convinced?

"Albus…" Hestia began, shakily. "With all that they have against him…which would be better for his and Irene's well-being? That he is innocent, but without a way to prove it…or that he is guilty and by confessing his crimes can get off more easily than he would if he didn't?"

Albus just shook his silver head, as if he had already given up on that question himself.

"I honestly don't know, my dear Hestia. If a wizard embezzles from Gringotts and…_succeeds…_it is far worse than if he were to try, fail, and then be found out. Goblins do not forgive and forget. They hunt down those who have wronged them, whether it is allowable by wizarding laws or not----but the worst part of the matter is, Decree 66 officially states that if a wizard, or any other creature for that matter, _has _wronged Gringotts Bank and its goblins in such a manner…than it is up to _them_ to determine punishment, and no Wizarding law can stand in their way!"

Irene drew a shuddering breath. "And you…you can't do anything to…to prove…that he is innocent?"

"I have tried, Irene. I have researched the matter time and again. The simple fact is, there is very little evidence for his innocence." Dumbledore sighed. "Mind you, I'm not very sure the goblins want to believe that he is guilty either. Despite the mishaps, he has been the very best that they've had for a long time now. If they cannot trust him, then there is no way they'd be able to trust any of their other Wizarding workers as well. It would be the Rebellions all over again…"

Irene raised a shaky hand to her face to wipe away the tears now freely flowing. But Albus Dumbledore wasn't yet finished.

"My friend learned from Harmgryph that this last mission---to the Caribbean---to which John Rosier was assigned was one that the Higher Goblins had set up for him. It was supposed to be a very difficult mission, covering a number of months, to give them time to analyze him…to watch him discreetly while he still thinks that everything is going just fine. If he is embezzling from Gringotts, they will find out on this mission, and if he isn't…" He looked tiredly around at them all. "Well, let's just hope that they finally find the proof that even I haven't been able to uncover."

Hestia snorted and shook her head wryly. "So, basically, John's life hangs on the whim of a specist _goblin? _Aren't they going to have a---a _trial_ or something? Can't anything we do have a say in the matter?"

"Hestia---it doesn't look like we _can----_" Balfour said, but Hestia interrupted him.

"_No_, Balfour! It doesn't look like you _will _do anything to stop it. Whether he's guilty or not, Albus, there must be _something _you can do----!"

The Professor gave another heavy sigh. "I have told you, Hestia, that there is nothing I can do that will over-ride them in this matter! It all depends on how the mission goes----"

"You said that he was back already!" Irene said. "You said that you went to St. Mungo's and_ he was there! _Can't you ask him? Doesn't he know anything? Hasn't anyone _told_ him that he's being watched? If he's innocent, then he'll have no clue, and it could be that if he makes even one mistake, the goblins will jump all over him for it!"

"But if he's guilty, than it won't matter anyway," Balfour argued. "You _told _Dumbledore that you'd at least consider it, Irene."

"_Don't tell me what I should or should not be considering!" _Irene shrieked. "I have known that man since I was _fifteen! _We were in the same classes together, we graduated together----"

"He was a _Slytherin, _Irene!" Lord Balfour yelled. "I knew better than to trust him, and I thought that you did as well, especially after what happened in 1974! His whole family were _Death Eaters!"_

"_AND I MARRIED HIM!" _Irene shouted. "It took me _five years _to forgive him! I have lived with him in my house, _slept_ with him in my bed----I've had his _children, _for Merlin's sake! I did _not _just do that all on a mere whim!"

"I'm just…I'm just saying…that sometimes we are…_blinded_…by the people we love…" Balfour put his head in his hands. "I'm not saying that it is him, I swear…I want to believe just as much as you do, Irene, that he was framed…but, I mean to say, that if _Dumbledore _can't prove him innocent…well, who _can?"_

Irene ran her fingers through her hair haphazardly.

"I can," she said simply. "And I will. I'll go to St. Mungo's…I'll ask him straight out…he's never lied to me before…I swear, he never has!" she said, as if trying to convince herself.

Albus Dumbledore stood up, his chair scraping against the floor. "That would be wise, Irene. I want you to bring him back here immediately. We do not want him to be taken into goblin custody without a full trial. I shall question him on the matter myself. We _will _get to the bottom of this!"

Irene nodded. "I'll get my things, then."

With a simple wave of her wand, she removed the Silencing Charms and walked out of the room, hurrying up the grand staircase.

* * *

In the nursery, the children gave a squeal of surprise. They jumped over all of the strewn toys and threw themselves onto their beds, yanking the covers up from under them to make it look like they had been sleeping all along.

The door creaked open and Mum peered in to look at them all. Four beds filled with four sleeping occupants amid a room covered with toys everywhere.

"Good-night, children," she whispered before she shut the door again.

Tobias and Alexandra opened their eyes to look at each other.

"_Whoa!_" Tobias whispered.

* * *

With Irene gone, there was a silence. Balfour sat in his chair, head still in his hands and massaging his temples. Marmie and Old William just looked at each other with dazed expressions.

Balfour shoved his chair back and strode out of the room. "I'll…I'll go help her…" he muttered.

This brought Marmie out of her reverie. "Yes, I should go put dinner away…wouldn't do to have all the mice squirming around it…"

Old William stared after her. "Weel…no reason fer me ta hang aroond, then!"

And he, too, left the dining room, leaving only Albus and Hestia to stare at each other across the table.

"You're hiding something, aren't you, Albus?" Hestia asked softly.

He stared at her for a second longer, then inclined his head. "Yes, I am."

"Would you care to tell me what it is?" she asked, as though dreading the answer.

Albus removed his tall hat and looked at it in his hands, smoothing away the wrinkles. After a few moments, he answered. "John Rosier wasn't scheduled to return home until the end of July. Something _has _happened on that mission, and he was injured during the course of it. I think that it went awry, and the Rosiers are in much deeper than I could ever have feared. John now lies in a hospital bed, unaware of the danger he is in…unaware of the suspicions he is under."

Hestia looked at him, confused. "But why didn't you tell her?"

"Because," Albus Dumbledore looked back at her, his eyes saddened with grief, "I believe that she has enough on her plate to be getting on with for the moment."

* * *

_**Author's Note: **And so the bomb drops. We now know what it is that surrounds the Rosier family. Merlin,will they have some very tough times now..._

_...And you also see why I wrote _Once UponA Rosier Christmas _as well! That Christmas Eve was vital for the telling of my story. So John Rosier was a Slytherin, and his whole family were Death Eaters...does that mean he was, too? Have you decided to trust him, or not? This story can go either of two ways, and it has only a few more chapters until it's finale. After that, I shall be taking a well-deserved break, then I'll launch right into _The Tempest!_I hope you have all had as much fun reading these as I have hadwriting them! _

_Oh, and thank you again, those of you who reviewed_ Things That Go Bump In The Night_! As I have said so many times before I loverecieveing your reviews and writing back replies. Good luck to those of you who are writing stories on as well! If you haven't alreadyinformed me, than tell meabout your stories and I can read them and tell you what I think of them! _

_Cheers! And, as always, don't forget to tell me you love me!_


	11. And the Toadstool

_**

* * *

**_

Chapter Eleven:… And the Toadstool

* * *

**_Irene Rosier_** stood in front of the fireplace in the front room. She stared at the merry, lucent flames with an uneasy feeling in the pit of her stomach.

_What will I find on the other side?_ she wondered. _What if…what if Balfour's right, what if I was wrong to forgive him?_

_No!_ protested the more reasonable side of her. _He is the best man you've ever met, that you could possibly ever meet! How can you just explain away these last ten years? We know everything about each other, we planned a future together and watched it be fulfilled, you've cared for him and bore his children, you…you love him!_

Irene heard footsteps behind her. She could tell without even turning around that they belonged to her younger sister. Arms enveloped her into a gentle hug from behind, and Irene settled her head onto Hestia's shoulder.

"It's all right," Hestia whispered to her. "You're going to be okay. Just walk into that hospital and care for your husband. He needs you right now. At this moment, it doesn't matter whether he's innocent or not…he's still the same man he was when you married him, when you had the twins, when you hugged him last…no matter what, Irene, he'll always love you. Of _that _you have no question."

Irene turned around and hugged her sister fiercely. A tear escaped her eye, and she had to choke out, "I know, Hestia…I know…"

They pulled apart, and Irene wiped her eyes. She looked behind her sister's shoulder to see Balfour, Dumbledore, Marmie, and Biddy watching her. Giving them all a small smile, she said, "We'll be back soon."

She turned back towards the fire and withdrew a handful of Floo powder from the urn on the mantle. Tossing it into the fire, she watched as the flames turned from the softest chartreuse to a spicy emerald green.

All of a sudden, what she was doing hit her. _I'm going to bring my husband home. He needs me. And no matter what anyone says, I still love him. _

Drawing her traveling cloak tighter around her, she stepped into the fire and called out, "St. Mungo's!"

Immediately, the world began to churn around her, filling her with the too-familiar sensation of falling down and sideways at the same time. If she opened her eyes, she'd be able to see the smallest glimpses of Wizarding homes as she left the Mansion and traveled that fiery distance to her own birthplace.

_I love him, I love him, I love him…_she repeated as she was spun around inside the flames._ I love him, and I always will._

* * *

John Tobias Rosier stared up at the canopy of his bed. His little brother's light snores filled the room, proving to the world that he had really fallen asleep just as soon as Mum closed their door.

At first, there were creaks and rustles as Morgan and Alexa tried to get comfortable in their own beds. Morgan had fallen asleep almost as soon as Evan did, but Tobias knew his twin was as full of questions as he was.

For a while, she just snuggled deeper and deeper into her blankets, making a little nest for herself, and thinking all the while, no doubt.

When her nest was complete, Tobias heard her muffled voice.

"Toby?"

He turned, facing her bed. He could see two eyes peeking out at him through the darkness.

"Yeah?" he asked, looking back up at his canopy.

"D'you think Daddy'll be okay?" she asked softly.

He twitched his nose. "Of course he'll be okay. Don' you remember what Mum and Dad told us what happened before we were born?"

"Erm…I _think _so."

Toby shifted. "Well, they said that they were married during the war, and some bad wizards wanted them. So they bought the Rookery and did all these spells so they couldn't be found."

"Bu'…what does that have to do with Dad _now_?" she asked impatiently.

He sat up and looked over at her. "Because, if the goblins Dad works with don't like him anymore, than it's all right! All we have to do is go into hiding again! Mum and Dad have done it before for almost _two years_, so they know that they can do it again!"

Alexandra thought on this. "Would we have to move?"

"I…don't think so. If they were hiding in the Rookery, than we can always hide in it again, I guess."

She snuggled deeper in her nest. "Okay."

Toby transferred his gaze back to the canopy.

_I don' want to leave the Rookery…but I don' want Daddy in trouble either. If they already know where we live, then…then we'll have to move..._

…_Won't we?

* * *

_

Hestia watched as the rest of the lingering emerald flames died down. She wished desperately she could have gone with her sister, to make sure John was all right, to make sure Irene was going to be able to live with this weight she was now bearing…

She shook her head. _No…that's not my place. My sister can always come to me for advice, for help with the kids, for a place to stay…but that doesn't mean that I am to take the place of John completely._

Biting her lip, Hestia realized what she had just thought.

_Taking the place of John completely…Oh, dear Godric Gryffindor! I pray that no one will ever have to! Please let him be innocent! Please let him be innocent! Please let us be able to prove that he is, _if _he is!_

"And now we wait," Balfour remarked softly behind her.

"That is all we can do," Albus Dumbledore added, the lilt in his voice which matched the twinkle in his eyes long since diminished.

Hestia turned around and looked at them. Both men wore sober expressions as they contemplated whatever thoughts moved through those brilliant minds of theirs.

She opened her mouth to speak, but nothing came out. Smiling a little at the picture the two made just standing there, she raised a shaking hand to brush a lock of hair out of her eyes.

She felt…useless.

Ever since Albus came she'd felt needed…that was just the effect he had on her, but now…there was nothing for her to do but sit and wait for her sister and brother-in-law.

Hestia Hesperus was a woman who made things happen. It was the way she had been all her life. She'd spent most of her childhood making up grand adventures, always dragging Biddy along with her. Then when her parents died, she remembered everyone making such a fuss about her…where would she live? Who were her guardians? And amid the confusion around her, she had decided that as well.

Now that she really thought on it, her life had been filled with things happening to her, just one thing after another, and it was usually she who brought them on.

_I really am a Chaser, _she thought. _I drive the game forward. I throw my life on the line more often than not, but…I always score. Whether it's becoming head of a department that no longer exists, or writing about what I wish we could change about the world and making the opportunity to tell people about it…that's just what I do, what I always have done. And now I am facing one of the biggest problems I might ever face in my life…_

…_And there's nothing I can do about it. _

"I'll…" she croaked, looking at the floor, "I'll be in the---in the library."

And she hurried off before she lost control completely in front of the two men she admired the most.

She was just about to open the doors of her favorite room of the Mansion when she heard a small sniffle. Cracking open the door, she peered cautiously inside.

On the carpeted floor by one of the bookcases, Toby sat, holding his knees to his chest and rocking back and forth.

"Oh, dear," Hestia said softly, looking at his tear-stained face. She walked over and sat next to him on the floor. "Come here, you," she whispered.

At once, he uncurled and buried his face in her side, gulping gratefully. She rubbed his shoulders and let him cry some more, thinking about a scene not too different from this one that only occurred less then twenty-four hours ago.

In a minute or two, Toby was wiping his eyes and shaking his hair from his face, taking deep breaths. It seemed all he'd needed was a friendly shoulder.

"Right then. Do you want to tell me about it?" Hestia asked, looking down at her nephew.

Tobias took a deep breath. "Wwweellll…."

Hestia groaned. "You eavesdropped, didn't you?"

He looked down at his hands, ashamed. "Yeah…we did."

"_All _of you? Merlin, Tobias! It's one thing to be curious about something you're not supposed to know, but it's another to bring your little brother and sister into it!"

Tobias sniffled. "Yeah, I know," he said mournfully. "I guess me and Lex should have waited till they were sleeping."

"Or you could not have done it at all," Hestia said, shaking her head. She looked down at Toby. Technically, he and his sister should be punished for eavesdropping, but the poor children were already burdened with what they'd heard…wasn't that punishment enough?

Sighing, she hugged him tightly. "So, tell me how you did it," she teased.

He looked up at her, the very picture of innocence. "Did what?"

"Tobias! Your Uncle Balfour put wards up around the whole room! How in the _world_ did you get around them?"

He sighed. "Well, this one was Alexa's idea. When she was floating around, she found Evan's Magi-Monitor----"

"----The one you lost?"

"----Yeah, that one. It was inside the hutch in the corner…"

"Ah. I see. So you listened to the other half of it, and the wards wouldn't have affected them because he only cast them on the ceiling, the walls, and the floor," Hestia finished for him. "They never touched the hutch, so if there was an object in there that had a magical link out, then you could have listened at will."

She expected him to smile and boast at the brilliance of it, but he just looked at the floor dejectedly. Struggling to get more comfortable on the floor, Hestia looked into his eyes, questioning.

Tobias looked right back at her and settled his head on her shoulder. "Aunt Hestia?"

"Yes, Toby?"

"I've got a question…" He trailed off, looking at her hesitatingly.

Hestia smiled. _There we go._

"Fire away," she said.

* * *

Around her, everything was bedlam.

As soon as she stepped out of the fire, a babble of voices, and the odd whistle or screech, could be heard throughout the entire ground floor.

Around the walls of the large receiving room that Irene was standing in, there were dozens of fireplaces, some of which would glow a brilliant green before witches and wizards stepped out of them, conversing loudly. There was such one family who were standing beside the grate next to Irene's, obviously waiting until they collected all their members. After the fire glowed emerald three more times, the bunch of them (now numbering thirteen in all) left the room, chattering loudly.

Behind her, Irene's fireplace changed colors once again, and she stepped out of the way just in time for a pretty, young witch holding a toddler wrapped tightly in her robes. Irene followed three young men in brilliantly orange robes out of the room and down a short corridor. However, they couldn't go any further, since there appeared to be some sort of blockage at the end of the hall.

"What is it, d'you reckon?" one of the wizards in front asked his orange-clad companions.

The tallest one of the lot craned his neck over the crowd. On the back of his robes, Irene could see a double "C" in bold, black letters. A round, black thing----a cannon ball, perhaps?----flew across his back and disappeared around his side, to reappear on the other side a moment later.

"Looks like the reception room is too crowded," he told them. "Don't know whether anyone can get in now…"

"Blimey!" cursed the other one. "I was hoping we'd be able to see Dudgeon today. He took your Bludger to his head rather hard, Chuck."

The third one, who had remained rather quiet until now, spoke up. "It might clear up soon, anyway. Let's just keep our fingers crossed and hope for the best."

His friends stopped peering over the crowd to look at him. Then they started laughing.

Confused, Irene moved away from them to squeeze through the melee. Slowly, visitors were trickling into the reception room where several Healers in official-looking, lime green robes were sorting out the mess.

"Excuse me?" Irene asked the nearest one, a thickset man with a shining bald pate.

"Yes, and what is it _you _want?" he asked in an exasperated tone.

"I…erm…was wondering if you could tell me where my husband is? His name is John Rosier. He came in this afternoon from----"

"Oh, the one from Gringotts? Yeah, him and a bunch of his friends are up on first floor. 'Creature-Induced Injuries' in the thirteenth ward. Third door on the left…y'can't miss it," he said in a grumble.

Irene thanked him and made her way through the crowd towards the narrow corridor that led to the stairs. Once she left the reception room, the noise lessened considerably. She passed many portraits of past Healers in the wide, brightly-lit hallway. Many doors and corridors breached out on either side of her, where more Healers and visitors bustled to and fro.

One such door had a young wizard with spiky brown hair and an enormous, purple bump on his head. He was completely surrounded by a gaggle of awestruck girls and seemed to be enjoying himself immensely.

"There I was, flying between my goalposts in the middle of our game. We were sixty points up and I was so sure we'd win this baby. Then, all of a sudden, _WHAM!_----"

The girls jumped as he clapped his hands together.

"---A Bludger flew right at me, and I was falling fast towards the ground sixty feet below..." He trailed off, leaving his admirers in suspense.

Irene moved on and up the staircase, squeezing past a couple in a heated argument.

"----I _told _you not to go sticking your arm up his behind, Irving, but did you listen to me? _No! _You never do! And now look where it's landed us----!"

"----But Selma, he had a rash! How was _I _supposed to know he would---er---you know----"

"Because he is a _fire crab!"_ his wife shrieked.

Irene bit back a laugh as she dodged Irving's badly mutated arm, which he was unwisely swinging around to make his point.

When she reached the top of the stairs, she walked over to the third door on the left, just as the Healer had said. On the door rested a plaque reading:

_SALISBURY SCOURGE WARD: SAVAGE SCRATCHES_

_Healer-In-Charge: Lysander Myrtilus_

_Trainee Healer: Gladys Gudgeon_

She pushed the door open and a loud burst of deep laughter met her ears. More than a dozen wizards were all standing around conversing, or else relaxing in firm chairs as Healers attended to them. Some had only a few minor scrapes, while others looked to be more seriously hurt. Those who weren't hurt at all just stood around, leaning on door frames, all joking in rambunctious terms with their injured comrades.

"I _must _ask you to hold still!" a Healer cried to her twitchy patient.

"Oh, Danforth can never be still, ma'am," a tall, black man told her. "He always has to be shakin' or doing summat, don't he, boys?"

The rest of his co-workers murmured in agreement. The Healer just sighed in exasperation.

"And who might _you _be looking for, miss?" The man nearest the door had just spotted Irene.

Heads turned to look.

"John Rosier," Irene replied calmly, aware of all the eyes on her.

" 'E's in that room," he said, pointing. There seemed to be quite a number of men around this one, but Irene was afraid to ask why.

She passed them all and walked into the room. It was a small, but brightly-lit room, with crystal balls of candles floating overhead. There were two beds and a few straight-backed chairs standing against the nicely paneled wall that housed several portraits, all of which were looking down on one of the patients inside disapprovingly. A large window showed the night outside, where a few storm clouds gathered.

_It seems that all of Britain is in a pea soup_.

Between the two beds was a shelf that housed many potion bottles and ingredients, beside one sickly-looking toadstool with an ugly gray pattern that grew in a large pot.

However, it wasn't the room's furnishings that caught Irene's eye; nor was it the two Healers, or the flaxen-haired patient, who had a pair of startling violet eyes. It was the other man sitting on the bed with his sleeves rolled up and five long, bloody gashes on his arms.

"John!" she said, rushing to him.

The other three looked up from their conversation. John's arm bore some long, ugly welts, and his Healer, who dodged out of Irene's way, had been rubbing slimy green salve onto it. John grimaced as Irene threw her arms around him, but then a big grin broke through on his face, undaunted, and he kissed her cheek.

"Irene, what are you doing here?" he asked. "Is something wrong?"

She took his free hand and ran her fingers against his cheek, which appeared to be devoid of any scars.

"Oh…no! Of course not!" she lied cheerfully. "I just heard you were back and couldn't wait to see you. How was your trip?"

John Rosier shook his head ruefully. "Not so good. There appeared to be a rampage of some sort. We barely got out in time."

Irene looked at him, searching his eyes, then nodded. "Well, it's good you were able to get out at all----"

The fellow beside them gave a mighty yell, clutching his finger in agony.

"Relax, Knold!" John said as the man screamed in pain. "It's just a shot! Nothing more than a pinprick; you've had much worse before! You're in the Beast Controller division, for Merlin's sake!"

Knold moaned. "We deal with ugly beasts out there, boss. They're _nothing_ compared to pretty witches with wands!"

The black-haired Healer attending to his finger just rolled her eyes. "_Men_," she muttered.

All of the men with their heads stuck through the door watching roared at this.

Irene smiled. _I can agree with her on that one._

John's Healer, working around Irene, finally finished with the salve and stood up.

"Done. By the time that absorbs, John, your arm should be good as new. The scars will be gone completely, leaving no trace at all."

John flexed his fingers, "Thanks, Myrtilus, I owe you."

Healer Myrtilus shook his head, smiling. "It's the least I could do after you saved me from that quarrel with the goblins over my vault. Besides, I'm a Healer, aren't I? It's what I do. Just keep it easy…don't use it too much for the next few days. "

He left with Knold's pretty Healer, calling out, "Who's next?"

Irene turned back to her husband. "John, I…I have something to tell you…" She whispered.

John Rosier looked at her. Having lived with Irene for ten-and-a-half years, he could read his wife as easily as he could a book. And now…she was giving him one of the gravest looks she had ever given him. Whatever this was, this…this was serious.

"Knold, leave," he ordered, his eyes never leaving his wife's.

"Aw, boss…" Knold whined. "And this was just starting to get good!"

However, he slowly got up and hobbled to the door, nursing his poor finger.

"And close the door, too," John said.

At once, all the wizards standing around groaned loudly.

"Bloody hell!"

"Merlin, we never get to hear anything good!"

"Figures he'd cut us out…always saves the good stuff for himself, Rosier does…"

John just smirked at them and cast a Silencing Charm on the door as soon as it closed. "Now what is it? Is there something wrong with you? Is there something wrong with the kids? _What?_"

Irene shook her head, her curls bobbing back and forth. "No…it's…"

She paused, gnawing on her bottom lip. John looked at her with a growing anxiety. "Irene, you can tell me. _What happened?"_

Suddenly, she stood up. "It's _you_, John! There's something wrong with _you_!"

* * *

Outside the room, in the hospital ward, the group of wizards stood around and waited for the last of them to be patched up.

Rosier hardly ever kept any secrets from them. He even told them nearly everything that happened on his solo missions, but this past mission…they hadn't all been gone that long for who knows when, and Rosier just seemed sort of…reserved. And then everything started happening at once; things were screwed up, some members went missing, the gold they were trying to guard was stolen, and then…

…Then it all went haywire. They'd barely got out in time, and their boss happened to be the last one out. Of everything they had all gone through together…the many years they had all spent in one close-knit family, protecting each other, helping each other out…they had never seen him so shaken up before. When he came out of that ship, he looked almost…lost.

It had been a great blow to all of them. Rosier was the one they all looked up to. Rosier had fought for them and saved them so many times they couldn't even begin to add them all up.

They were glad that his wife was here. She'd help them. She'd be able to sort this all out. After all, he loved her…he trusted her beyond anything else.

If there was anyone who could help him, it was Irene.

* * *

John stared at her.

His mind was a blank. It was as though someone had taken a slate full of formulas and advanced problems and wiped it clean.

It had taken everything his mind could offer to digest the story his wife had told him. And now…

…Now it was blank.

Irene stared up at him. Waiting for an answer…a reaction…_anything!_

After what seemed like forever, he blinked. He stood up and paced the small room, then went back to the bed and sat down again.

He grabbed his hair in his hands and bent forward. "Merlin's bloody _beard,_" he whispered.

"John…" Irene looked at him desperately. "You know I love you! More than _anything! _And no matter what happens…I will be there. We're going to get through this, all right? But you have to tell me the truth. I just need to know _why, _John."

He looked at her. "Why you think they're sure I did this, or why you think I _did _it?"

"Anything, John! Either one, but please…just answer _something_!"

His face was chalk white, his green eyes looking into her blue ones intently. "Irene," he whispered. "I _swear_ to you that I did not do it! I would never do anything even remotely close to it! I loved my job…before it started to take me away from you and your trust."

Irene gave a small sob. Her whole being suddenly felt lighter than air. All the weight of the grief and sorrow and fear that had been placed upon her for the past few months were just lifted up at that moment…and it was the best feeling in the world.

John leaned forward and kissed her, drawing her into a fierce hug. "The only way I would ever do that is if someone threatened you or the kids and I could do nothing to stop them, Irene," he said slowly. "But, other than that, I would _never_ do anything that would jeopardize us or our family. If something were to happen to you, Irene, I'd…I'd die."

Irene softly cried into his shoulder. _How could I? How could I have ever doubted this man? How _could_ I?_

The sky outside suddenly didn't seem to be stormy anymore. In fact, Irene could see a constellation of stars above, while John and Irene just sat there for what seemed like eternity. Neither of them wanted to let go.

Then everything happened at once.

The door burst open and Knold came running in, shouting and waving his arms wildly. But the wards John had cast on the door were still working, and they couldn't hear him. There was a shout outside, and something flew at the window. It shattered, and John yelled in surprise and sheltered Irene from the flying glass with his body. A few shards flew across the room and hit the potion bottles, making several crash to the floor. The smallest piece of glass, however, missed them all completely and kept traveling, faster than the eye could see, finally lodging itself into the toadstool on the shelf, tearing a deep, inch-long gash.

And then the toadstool exploded.

* * *

_**Author's Note: **__I have nothing to say except the fact that the end is drawing near. There shall only be two to three more chapters left…I'm just debating on whether I should reveal everything to you at the end, or save some things for the next book, to be written after "The Tempest"._

_What do you think? Do you want to know _everything_ now? Or do you want me to reveal only a few choice matters that are at hand? Would you rather I leave you hanging, and leave some of the plot to be carried on to the next book, giving it more of a flow? Or should I give you all that I've got so you can be satisfied at the end?_

_You know how to answer. Just review! And tell me you want more of a character, you want more backgrounds, you want more laughter, more tears, more frightening moments…just tell me what you want and I shall accommodate it into my writing! _

_And so I shall leave you with a hearty "Cheers!" and walk forth to continue on with the story, waiting for your reviews, and getting a quill and paper in hand…Sliding Buckwheat over a bit, since I think he'd much rather not end up looking like a tiger…setting my parchment on my desk and, by light of wand, I pick up my quill and write._


	12. Sage Counsel

_**

* * *

**_

Chapter Twelve: Sage Counsel

* * *

In the Hesperus Mansion, all was still and silent and the children were asleep in their beds…of course, if they weren't asleep, at the _very _least they were in their beds.

The lady of the household was nervously waiting in the front room, pacing back and forth across the rug. Her dearest gentleman friend, who had now lived with her for nearly a full year, sat in one of the leather armchairs, crossing and uncrossing his legs and twiddling his thumbs.

The cook had strung her apron on the hook and now had her everyday robes on, as though waiting to go to her house and husband. However, when asked if she was going to be leaving, she adamantly responded that she was going to go when she knew the truth, and no one was going to stop her. Of course, no one was going to be doing any such thing anyway, but they let her have her say.

Hestia's oldest friend and childhood companion had taken up darning her small son's trousers. Though she hadn't been as close to Irene as to Hestia when they were smaller, she nevertheless felt a motherly instinct towards the troubled woman; and that didn't seem to count the fact that their children had grown up together and often played together with no regard for wizarding tradition. She glanced worriedly at her mistress, who kept passing the couch as she paced.

The gatekeeper, most commonly dubbed 'Old William', had given up already on any shred of hope (obviously, since there was nothing there to begin with) and had retreated through the wind and the rain to his little house on the edge of the grounds. With a whisky dram in hand he settled down in his battered, old chair and fell asleep, proclaiming that he didn't have the slightest affection for the Rosiers, so therefore, didn't feel the smallest obligation to wait it out.

However, even though he protested against having feelings for any human being at all (or any house-elf, for that matter), we shall excuse him with the fact that he was sixty, a drunkard, and an ornery old fool. He hadn't the slightest clue that there was still an ancient, beating heart in that stubborn body of his that really did care what happened…no matter the odds.

Lastly, there was Albus Dumbledore, who chose to place himself in a rickety, straight-backed chair, as though reminding himself that he was not there for pleasure after all. He studied the folded hands on his lap intently, replaying the night's events over in his mind, keeping them, and everything his confidante had told him, as fresh in his mind as possible.

He glanced up and watched Hestia wearily walking back and forth in front of him. "My dear, if you are thinking that pacing will bring them back faster, you are sadly mistaken. Why don't you sit for a spell? It does wonders to clear the mind," he informed her, the smallest twinkle rekindled in his eyes.

Hestia stopped abruptly and looked at him, startled. Then she realized what she had been doing, what he had said, and gave a sheepish smile and sat on the couch beside Biddy, twisting her hands nervously. As soon as she sat down, however, the fire roared and turned green, and a figure stepped out of it.

Hestia rushed over and threw her arms around Irene. "You're back! How is he? _Where _is he?"

The fire roared, and a second figure stepped out of it. As soon as she saw who it was, Hestia turned to him and threw her arms around her brother-in-law. "Welcome back, John!" she whispered in his ear, then pulled away. "When we were in the woods, I thought --- _oh_! Merlin, but what happened to you two?"

The interruption came when Hestia saw that John and Irene were not only completely worn out and exhausted from the travel, but they were both sporting numerous scratches on their faces and arms.

John gave a grim smile. "A shattered _window_ is what happened, plus an exploding toadstool, an unconscious Healer…the list goes on…"

Hestia arched her eyebrows --- Balfour had joined them as well --- while John just shook his head, thinking about what had happened not even an hour before…

* * *

_In the hospital room, they had been embracing when the door burst open and Knold ran in, waving his arms. Just then, the window shattered, shards flew across the room, and just when John thought it was safe to look up, Irene screamed, there was a soft ripping sound and the toadstool on the shelf exploded._

_At once, John and Irene were splattered with a sticky, gray substance. Knold stopped shouting as he was hit with a face full. The Silencing Charm John had placed earlier collapsed, and all at once there was a rush of sound._

_John's co-workers rushed inside when they heard Irene's scream and the shatter of glass. They saw Knold standing inside the room, trying to scrape the slime off himself. Their boss and his wife were crouching on the ground, covered in glass and the same slime that graced Knold's face. _

"_What happened?" asked the tall, black man._

_The portraits on the walls all complained loudly at the toadstool bits that now covered their canvases. _

_John helped his wife up off of the floor, brushing away the small glass pieces on her traveling cloak. He checked her face and arms, wiping the blood away with his sleeve and kissing the scratches on her cheeks._

"_Are you alright, honey?" he asked worriedly. His wife looked rather dazed as she looked around at the mess on the floor._

"_What _was _that?" she asked, stepping on the broken glass to the window. There was complete darkness outside, and the alleyway below was deserted. _

_Her husband joined her at the window, looking over the sharp glass edges still jaunting out of the frame. A gust of wind made Irene's curls fly around her head wildly; John saw that one of her locks was sheared off as it danced too closely to certain piece of broken glass still stuck around the edges._

"_Irene," he said warningly and guided her away from the window. A plump boy in the nearest painting peered over the slime that splattered his face. He had an oddly eager look about him, as though this was the most exciting thing that had happened in that room for a long time…_

…Which_, John told himself, _it probably was

_His fellow wizards surveyed the glass and slime around the room, coming up with suggestions on what could have happened._

"_Muggles, most likely…curse the lot of them…" one muttered under his breath._

"_Throwing stones at empty buildings…er…at least, what _they _think is an empty building…I mean, obviously it isn't," Knold agreed. He kept wiping at his face, trying to get the substance off, but only succeeding in making it worse. _

"_Anyone know what _this_ was doing here?" A fellow with a bad megrim held up the large pot with half a toadstool inside. _

_His comrades just shook their heads. Irene and John Rosier struggled to get the gray slime off them as well. _

_Knold stopped rubbing his face long enough to say, "It's…er…it's mine. I found it when we were in the----"_

_The man beside him shoved his arm and jerked his head toward Irene. Irene, fortunately, was already concentrating on getting some glass pieces out of her hair, so she didn't notice._

"_----In the…er…well, I found it," Knold finished lamely._

_A large man with an even larger nose just shook his head. "D'you always have to bring back souvenirs, Knold? You've got the weirdest habit I've ever seen. Remember when we were in Cuzco, and you insisted on keeping that vicuna you found? You said you wanted it 'as a _reminder_'! D'you remember that, Erling?"_

_John just shook his head as they all laughed. Then he remembered something."Hey, Knold, what was that you wanted, anyway? You came running in here and shouting like someone had cut your head off." _

_Knold jerked his head around and cursed, "Dammit, I forgot! I was talking with your Healer, Rosier, and we were standing by a window on the other end of the ward when there was some shouting outside and the window broke. I think…I think the Healer was hurt!"_

_John swore as well and pushed through the crowd, tearing out of the room and down the hall. Everyone followed him to the very end of the long ward where, lying on the floor amid a pool of broken glass, was Healer Myrtilus. _

_John checked the wizard's pulse, shouting to his men to get a Healer. Knold ran to do his bidding. _

_With a swish of his wand, John cleared the glass away and checked to see where Myrtilus had been hit. On the back of the Healer's head, almost hidden by his thick, black hair, was a deep cut where blood of the darkest red seeped out._

_John looked wildly around him, searching…and then he found it. A sharp rock was lying underneath the chair in the corner, and it seemed to have something wrapped partially around it…_

_The arrival of a group of Healers brought more order to the chaos. All of John's co-workers were gathered around, talking in hushed tones as the newcomers examined him and put him on a stretcher. _

_No one noticed John walking towards the rickety, old chair. No one saw him as he bent down and picked the rock up. It had jagged edges…perfect for doing some damage with…and…something else…_

_John unrolled what looked like a small piece of parchment that had been wrapped carefully around a sharp corner of the rock. There was some writing on it…but the writing had been so smeared with the drops of blood that John couldn't make it out at first._

_He blew on it, and then slowly the red blood and the green ink separated and John could read what it said:_

"_I WILL GIVE YOU ONE LAST CHANCE. DO NOT FAIL ME!"_

_John stared at the words, his hands shaking slightly as everything registered. There was shout somewhere to his left and he jumped, visibly shaken. His breathing became shallower still, and his face turned an ashen gray that very closely resembled the slime covering his robes._

"_No…it can't be…" he croaked. "_No!_"_

_He stared at the dreaded paper a moment longer before he stuffed it into his robes and stood up abruptly. He ran through the thinning crowd back to the small, now deserted hospital room. The cramped room seemed to have been cleaned up at least. The glass had been repaired and the walls, floors, portraits and ceiling were all de-slimed again. _

_John cast his eyes around and found what he was looking for settled on the bed a few moments later. The parchment rolled around this rock bore the same words as the last, and the were written in emerald ink as well…_

"_John!" Irene called behind him._

_He hastily shoved the second scrap into his robes and turned to face his wife. _

"_I was able to get the slime off, and your friend Knold said he didn't think it was poisonous…and, well, nothing seems to have happened. I feel a little confused, granted, but overall I'm fine. Turn around, and I'll take it off you," she ordered. _

_She was concentrating so hard on getting every single piece of glass and smudge of slime that she didn't even notice the look frozen in his eyes until she was done. "Is something wrong, John?" she asked, alarmed. _

_He shook his head as if to clear his thoughts and looked at her with an oddly sad smile. "No, Irene," he answered, putting his arm around her. "There's nothing wrong."_

_She looked at him for a moment longer before smiling back and kissing him on the nose. "Good. Let's go home."_

_They strolled out of the room and into the long ward, calling goodbye to John's companions._

"_Gladys! Keep me posted on Myrtilus, will you?" John asked the Trainee Healer, who acknowledged him in return._

"_See you, boss!"_

"_So long, Rosier!"_

"_Fun while it lasted, eh?"_

"_See you Thursday, John. You and I've got desk duty! Looking forward to it?" The tall, black man called out._

"_As ever, Nigel! We'll make the most of it. Are Basil and Normstrom bunking with us?" John asked._

"_Aye!" _

"_Bye, boss!" Knold was the last to call out. Obviously, Irene had de-slimed him as well; his flaxen hair held no traces of any gray substance whatsoever, and his face bore only a few small scratches and cuts._

_John smiled and, after a nudge from his wife, replied, "See you around, Knold!"_

_And so, together, John and Irene Rosier walked out of the ward and headed for the Hesperus Mansion.

* * *

_

"…But that poor Healer, though," Irene was saying. "They had to put him on a stretcher and float him out of the ward. I wonder which one they put him in…"

She sat down at the long couch along with Hestia. Albus Dumbledore and Balfour kept looking expectantly at them, and Marmie was looking John over as if just waiting for him to lose a leg at any moment.

Meanwhile, John was pulling something small out of his pocket.

"_Engorgio!" _he said, tapping it. A split second later, a large suitcase was sitting in the middle of the floor.

"Oh! I almost forgot!" Irene drew something out from her robes as well and enlarged it. It was the pot with the half-blown toadstool.

John furrowed his eyebrows. "What did you bring that here for?"

"Knold said he brought it to the hospital for them to check it out and see what kind it was. I thought that maybe Balfour could do that instead, since they never got around to it," Irene replied.

Balfour leaned forward. "Let me see it, then."

Irene obliged and Balfour spent the next five minutes studying it, though more to keep his mind off the questions threatening to burst out of him then anything else. He pretended to be quite interested in what the substance was that it carried, while Irene told them all what John had relayed to her at the hospital.

"---So, you see, it _couldn't _be John. We just have to find some way to be able to _prove_ it!" she finished.

John couldn't help but notice how her eyes sparkled at this newfound information. She seemed to be so relieved that her husband said he didn't take any part in the embezzling that it hardly occurred to her that he wasn't nearly as relaxed as everyone else.

On the contrary, he had his elbows on his knees and his face in his hands, massaging his temples. Those in the room with him thought he held that position because he was trying to fathom why his superiors would think that about him in the first place…but he was thinking exactly the opposite.

"Dumbledore?" he said abruptly, cutting his wife off. "May I speak with you for a moment? Alone?"

Albus' sharp eyes didn't miss a beat. Throughout Irene's entire speech on what had happened at St. Mungo's and how innocent John was, Albus had had eyes only for John Rosier. He couldn't help but notice how uncomfortable the man looked, how often he rubbed at his temples, as though trying to remember something rather important.

_There is something terribly wrong here, _he thought. _And I must get to the bottom of it!_

"Of course, John." Albus stood up, his periwinkle robes dropping to the floor around him. "If you would all excuse us."

John led the way into a smaller anteroom off the entrance hall. Quite contrary to the furnishings of the other rooms on the ground floor (most of which were colored in brown, gold, and red), this one was decorated in a very dark palette. The wooden floor was partially covered in a magnificent emerald rug, and the wallpaper that reached all the way up to the high ceiling was of the deepest purple. Darkly elegant foxglove flowers adorned it.

Two dark armchairs sat on either side of a small table, a portrait of unusual size took up the entire wall opposite, and a few bookshelves housed some of the weirdest instruments and potions bottles John had ever seen…which was saying quite a lot. There didn't seem to be any window or fireplace, either. He didn't even want to guess what this room used to be for.

Albus Dumbledore lit the candles surrounding the brackets in the room and on the table. They both sat in either chair, and Albus waited for John to begin. It seemed that John Rosier was so nervous on what he was about to say, though, that Albus began to fear the worst.

John raised a shaking hand to comb his black curls away from his eyes. The candlelight flickered across his face, making it appear to be a ghastly white. Several times John tried to speak, but nothing came out. He suddenly stood up and paced the small room.

Dumbledore watched him quietly. "What Irene said is not true, is it?" he asked softly.

John Rosier turned to him, and Albus saw that he looked as though he was about to be deathly sick. "No," John whispered, his green eyes more troubled than Albus had ever seen them. "No…it's not."

* * *

Hestia watched the two men go with an uneasy air. _I wonder what's bothering John? _

Lord Balfour had found something in the toadstool that had really struck his attention. He left for his rooms, carrying it and muttering to himself. Marmie, Irene, and Biddy, meanwhile, were all arguing over the finer points of what Albus told them earlier concerning John.

"So, d'you think it was one of his colleagues? Are they tryin' to frame him or summat?" Marmie asked.

"If Master's innocent----" Biddy squeakily began.

"You mean, _since _he's innocent," Irene interrupted.

"----Then wouldn't he know who's good to trust and who's not good to trust?" Biddy finished, looking around at them all.

Hestia joined them. "I think that sometimes…bad wizards are hiding behind more than a mere mask. I know that it's hard for us to believe, but they think that what they are doing is actually right. That it will honestly help the people around them…or themselves."

Irene looked puzzled. "So are you saying that…it could be John's closest friend who's betraying him?"

"Well…yes, and no…I mean to say, that perhaps John really is doing all of these horrid things to Gringotts and doesn't even realize what it means to his family," Hestia began. Irene made to interrupt her, but Hestia cut her off. "No, let me finish. It could be that he's forced into doing it. Maybe he's been threatened…he always says that he'd do _anything _for you and the kids, Irene. Well…maybe they've threatened to do something to you if _he_ doesn't obey them."

Irene paled. "So he's…he's willing to…to throw away his future, his career, his position…to save us?"

Hestia nodded grimly. "Exactly."

Marmie went on, "Yes, they could be doing that. Or perhaps whoever is doing this has even resorted to the old ways. They could Imperius him into something, even----"

Irene dropped her cloak. "_I-I-Imperius_?"

Hestia crossed over to her and gave her a hug. "Irene, don't worry! Whatever it is, Albus will sort it all out! You just need to have faith in them!"

Irene took a deep breath and nodded. "You're right. Everything will turn out fine. I needn't worry…we've got Dumbledore with us!"

Hestia nodded, smiling, then she remembered something. "Irene…I think you ought to know that shortly after you left…I…I found Tobias in the library…"

* * *

Eerie green shadows flickered around the room. The large portrait that covered one wall housed a single occupant: a girl of about sixteen with mousy brown hair and a scowl on her face. She held a bouquet of flowers and glared down at John Rosier and Albus Dumbledore as though wondering, 'What are they doing in _my _room?'

Albus stared at John with a stern expression.

"Tell me everything!" he said sharply.

John drew a deep breath and wiped a hand across his perspiring forehead. He sat down at the armchair he had so previously deserted and stared at the candle flames. "I didn't want to believe it, at first…" he began hoarsely. "I knew something was wrong with me…I just didn't know _what_…"

Albus leaned forward, watching him intently. "What do you mean, there's something wrong with you?"

The candle danced in John's dark green eyes, as though to hide the fact that they seemed so gaunt and lifeless. To him, the flames began to take shape…a griffin…a bottle of potion…Irene, even.

"I thought everything was fine. I had a family…a beautiful wife…_children_. Sure, there had been some problems in the past --- who leads a perfect life, after all? But that was all they were…_in the past._" John shifted and looked directly into Dumbledore's eyes.

"I went on my missions. We had a few mishaps every now and then, but I loved my job, Dumbledore! I loved the men I worked with…we had become almost…family," John said, reflecting back to those times. "But then I started noticing it. I dismissed it almost immediately, of course, thinking it nonsense…but it wasn't nonsense…and it wouldn't go away. Believe me, it didn't escape me how much in detail the men would go in…describing every flaw in the plan, every rock in the mountain…and I found that I…that I _couldn't._"

Dumbledore furrowed his eyebrows. "You couldn't remember the places that you went to on your missions?"

John stood up. He seemed frustrated almost. "Oh, I could remember, all right! I could remember very clearly the outline of the scheme of things, what we were supposed to do and all that, but I was watching it through another man's eyes! I couldn't remember walking from one place to another…just one scene, and then the next…I couldn't even remember actually speaking to my men…just what they would tell me afterwards about what I said…" John stopped and rubbed his temples fiercely.

"I thought that there _must _be a possible explanation, Dumbledore. I thought that maybe I was coming down with a disease or something like that…I even checked myself in at Mungo's, but they couldn't find anything out of the ordinary. Then finally, I just had to face the truth…" He paused, staring up at the girl in the painting.

Dumbledore leaned forward; his eyes were fixed on John's gaunt face. "_And what is the truth?"_

John looked at him, his eyes feverish. "Huge blanks in my mind, spaces of time when I don't know where I was, what I was doing…Dumbledore, _I think I'm the spy!" _

Dumbledore stood up. "Will you show me?" he asked. "Will you let me see those memories?"

John stood up as well, and nodded. "Go ahead."

And so, for the second time that night, Albus Dumbledore of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry performed Legilimency on one of the members of the Hesperus Household.

John immediately felt a rush of memories, colors, voices and images in his head. He struggled to contain them…to organize them into their own separate drawers, and lead Dumbledore to those memories…if they even _were_ memories…he wanted to show him, he wanted to know…

It was a full five minutes later when they broke apart and collapsed into their chairs, exhausted. Albus Dumbledore looked older at that moment than John had ever seen him before, and it was a long while until either of them spoke up.

Dumbledore stroked his beard, staring hard at the floor. "Those were false memories, John," he said finally. "I am sure of it."

John Rosier nodded at the wall.

"And it was no accident by which they came there."

John laughed bitterly. "I'm sure. But…but _who?"_

Albus Dumbledore stood up and paced the small room, thinking hard. "By no means are we to make light of this. It takes clearly advanced magic to alter someone's memory, let alone exchanging it entirely…"

"But…" John said again, rubbing at his face. "But _who? _I know I have a number of enemies…but all the ones I can think of are either dead or in Azkaban…unless…"

Albus stopped pacing to look at him over his half-moon spectacles.

"Unless it wasn't necessarily an enemy! I could have just been a pawn…just some poor shmuck they chose to do their dirty work! Someone who's got it in for Gringotts --- in fact, it could even be one of the goblins themselves…but why would they…" John trailed off again, looking confused.

"Our first objective," Dumbledore interrupted, "is to find out how you have been given false memories, then hunt down who has been doing this. Once we have evidence, we can take this to court. The goblins have no ruling over you if we have the proof that you are innocent. In the meantime----"

"Wait!" John stood up. "Who's to say it won't happen again? What if I go into work tomorrow, say, and whoever is doing this curses me again? I'll be completely at their bidding! They could force me to do _anything_ and I won't even remember it!"

Suddenly, a horrible thought struck him. He sank back into his chair, knees too weak to support him. "_Merlin_! They…could have forced me…to do _anything! _I…I could have been killing…_innocent children…_for all I know! I…Dumbledore, what if…what if they made me…hurt my _family_? Would I have done it…and not even _know_?" He put his head in his hands, too shaken for words.

"We will find out, John!" Dumbledore said firmly. "It will take time…but we will find out who has been doing this to you." He stared at the candle on the table, flickering madly as melted wax ran down its side.

"_We will."

* * *

_

_**Author's Note: **Well! Only one more chapter, I'm afraid! Unless what I have to say next takes up more room, then I'll have to make there be two more...but I'm sure you wouldn't mind._

_For those interested, the title of this chapter comes from a poem by Sir Author Quiller-Couch. I was browsing through my poetry book and thought it the best thing for this chapter._

_Now, if you are confused by what was being said in this chapter, feel free to comment! I try not to mess you all up _too _much...but it seems I just have the knack for it! When this story is done, another one-shot will be coming up! And I love it already! Now review! Please?_


	13. The Outline of a Mysterious Man

**_Warning: _**_Okay men…(and women)…This is it. The big one. The one we've all been waiting for….(I know Oliver's speech by heart)…_

_…This, my dears, is…the final chapter!

* * *

_

**_The Outline of a Mysterious Man_**

* * *

Not for the first time in his little bed, Evander Rosier, age five-and-a-half, was being consumed by a nightmare.

His breathing became quick and uneven, his cheeks flushed, his eyelids half-open, even though he was still fast asleep. With a small moan, he tossed and turned, his back arching, throwing his sheets and blanket unconsciously off him.

Flashes of images flew past his mind's eye, sounds and colors of the wildest imaginations, for the fear which had devoured him only the night before had returned...

_Light…bursts of white light…someone screaming…and he was holding something…someone…_

_Evander and Mory clung to each other as the mean man advanced. He was speaking…but Evan couldn't hear it…_

_…Then, all of a sudden, there was a shock of green light and Mory was slipping…falling…down, down, down…and into the snow…_

He moaned and clutched his pillow, which was wet with his perspiration.

_The mean man turned on him and grinned evilly…he was talking…the screaming grew louder and louder…he raised his wand and pointed it straight at Evan's heart…_

Across the room, Tobias lay in his own bed and scratched behind Virgilia's ears, whispering to her. The boy and the dog were sprawled underneath the covers, keeping each other company. On the way to his room after talking with Aunt Hestia, Toby had found the Baron's dog moaning pitifully on the second floor, so he stole the dog away and snuck her all the way up into the nursery.

With his hangings drawn close, they huddled together as he told her all about the Rookery. She had never been there before, he remembered, so he decided to relate it to her.

Just as he was about to start on his bedroom and all of its cool gadgets, however, Toby heard a loud moan, followed by a sharp cry, from his brother's bed. He looked up, startled, and wrenched open his hangings.

Evan was sitting up in bed, gasping. His sheets were in a tangled mess on the floor and he was looking around wildly.

"Er…Evan?" Tobias said tentatively. "Whassa matter? Was it another nightmare?"

For a moment, his little brother just looked at him, eyes slightly unfocused.

"Wh-what happened?" Tobias got up and padded over to Evan's bed.

Evander just stared at him. He cocked his head to the side, as though listening to some inner voice inside his mind; then a small smile broke through on his troubled face. He turned his over-bright eyes to Toby's own sea-green ones, and whispered, "Toby…_he's back!"_

Tobias furrowed his brow. "Who's back?"

Evan leaned forward, just inches from his brother's face. Then he split into a huge grin.

"Daddy!"

* * *

With their eyes set and their mouths drawn, John Rosier and Albus Dumbledore set off down the hall to rejoin the others and explain what had been decided. They both agreed that it would be best not to tell the others everything, at least not until the matter was researched more thoroughly and they both knew what was happening and who was responsible.

"There's no need for Irene to worry until she has to," John had said.

Before they left the room, though, John related everything that had transpired at the hospital. He pulled out the two notes with blood and green ink and explained to Dumbledore how they had helped him to realize that he was somehow mixed up in all of this.

Dumbledore was very interested in these articles. He examined both of them, muttering a spell John could only guess was to see what substance the parchment was made from and which ink was used…perhaps even to see if any fingerprints were left behind. John knew that that was an old-fashioned Muggle thing. All wizards had to do was see which wand committed the crime and they had their man…most of the time.

Dumbledore took a while studying them, murmuring under his breath while he peered over his spectacles. "This contains powdered dragon claw, unlike most wizarding parchments…so that would rule out Papyrus Pastor…and…what is this substance here? It looks like…gracious, but…_ah!_" He whipped off his spectacles and cleaned them before setting them back onto their crooked perch, peering intently at the note.

John looked over at his companion. "'_Ah_'?"

Dumbledore looked up, "Yes, '_ah_'! This, my dear friend, is a single grain from a common species of grass known to mankind as the _graminus_ _secrete. _There has been only one parchment-maker in the world who has ever been known to add this to his potions…though I am still not entirely sure why…the _graminus secrete_ has some amazing magical abilities…"

John peered over the Headmaster's shoulder. "But if it has some amazing magical abilities, why don't they all use it? I thought you said it was a common grass."

"It is," Dumbledore stood up and straightened his robes, "…in Iceland."

So together, they strode out of the smaller, secluded room and into the front room, where Hestia, Irene, Marmie, and Biddy were still talking. As they spotted the two wizards, all four women stood up anxiously.

Albus Dumbledore adjusted his spectacles and looked solemnly at them all. "This situation is graver than I thought," he began. "John is indeed being framed----"

Irene started, and Hestia and Marmie both made gestures as if to speak, but Dumbledore raised his hand in silence.

"----And while I have no theory as of yet as to who is doing this, or why, John has agreed to meet with me every week so we can both investigate the matter more thoroughly…if that is all right with you, Irene?" he asked her kindly.

Looking flustered, she nodded, scrutinizing her husband under her eye.

"Bu', Headmaster, what about the goblins?" Marmie asked.

Dumbledore's eyes flickered and became a shade darker. "I will deal with them," he said quietly, leaving no argument.

Hestia cleared her throat and sat down again. "So…you don't know whether he's being Imperiused, or cursed, or forced in any way? All you know is that he's being framed?"

Albus Dumbledore looked at her long and hard before answering. "There are no traces of the Imperius, Hestia. Neither are there any traces of any curse I've ever heard of. He is not being threatened, tricked, forced…but that is the extent of my knowledge. John and I will get to the bottom of it," he said.

Hestia studied him a moment longer, before nodding satisfactorily.

Albus Dumbledore beamed, though a bit too brightly, she noticed. "Splendid! Now if I could just----"

He was interrupted by a large clatter as Lord Balfour Marjoribanks bounded down the stairs and into the front room, looking breathless. "Dumbledore! If I could speak with you, please?"

The Headmaster gave a curt nod and followed Balfour out of the room. "Lead the way."

Those remaining exchanged glances.

"What in Merlin's name does Balfour want to speak with Dumbledore about?" John wondered.

Marmie shook her head, "Go ask the gnomes. I'm gonna go and make you some dessert…you're naught but skin and bones! Don' you know how ter feed yourself, John?"

John's face split into a grin. "Not like you do, Marm."

Hestia looked up, surprised. "But I though you were going to go home? It's nearly twelve o'clock, isn't Jim Bob waiting for you?"

"Nah. You leave that ornery man to me. I may love 'im, but that doesn' mean I can't have another family to take care of, as well." She heaved herself out of the chair and made for the kitchen.

Hestia watched her go with a look of surprise on her face. She had been with her beloved cook for nearly a year and a half now, but never before had Marmie come close to calling her family.

She grinned.

"It _is_ getting late," Irene agreed. "Why don't we go and put your things in the bedroom, John? I promised the kids we'd kiss them good night when we got back…though they should be sleeping now."

John gave a wry smile. "I don't know, Irene. Knowing them, they probably propped themselves against the bedposts just to stay awake!"

Irene slowly sat up, groaning. She rubbed her stomach and winced. "My entire body aches. It has been a very long day…I feel like just crawling in bed…"

John stroked his tired face. There were bags under his eyes and it looked like he hadn't shaved in a while.

"That sounds like a marvelous plan, m'dear. Oversea traveling always seems to put five more years on me. Tell you what; when we get into bed, I'll show you a charm Healer Myrtilus told me about. It's supposed to give every muscle in your body a good rubbing, and relocate any misplaced bone. Sykes, one of my co-workers (you know the chap) said that his wife performs it after every mission, and it really works."

Irene leaned back into his arms, closing her eyes. "Mmmm! Sounds heavenly…"

They sat there for a moment longer, and Hestia thought they'd drifted off to sleep. "Should I dim the lights?" she asked dryly.

Idly, one of Irene's eyes opened. "No…no, we're moving. Give us a day or so, why don't you?"

Five minutes later, she could still be seen trying to help her husband up from the couch. With their joined efforts of painfully slow moving, they suddenly reminded Hestia of an elderly couple. "Biddy?" she asked, watching her sister and brother-in-law slowly exit the room.

Her house-elf looked up from her lap, where she was darning a pair of socks for Dingy. "Yes?"

"Do you think I'll ever act like that when I grow old?" Hestia asked.

Biddy studied her. "Depends, methinks, on if you ever plan on who it is you're goings to act like that _with."_

Hestia looked over at her friend. Biddy was sitting on her miniature chair next to the fireplace, her enormous brown eyes and floppy ears illuminated by the dying fire's glow. "You're right…" Hestia whispered. "You're very right."

"I knows I am," Biddy said truthfully. Then her ears pricked up when she heard the slightest sound. "And I am also right in thinking that something needs Biddy's fixing."

She set down her darning and stood up, staring up at the ceiling with a far-away look on her face that Hestia knew very well. Ever since they were little, Biddy would break off from their play and get that look on her face and her ears would stiffen, like she was trying to hear something from very far away.

Then, just as she was about to _pop _into another portion of the Mansion, Biddy glanced over at Hestia. "Perhaps you wouldn't be's so lonely," she said in her soft, high voice, "if you had a Lot, too."

Then she vanished.

* * *

Irene Hesperus Rosier made up the stairs with her husband, arm strewn through his and hands linked. They walked down the upstairs hall and passed the portraits in their nightcaps, with John's large suitcase floating in front of them.

They had decided to stay the night with Hestia and leave in the morning. It would be a bit of a disappointment for the children to leave so soon, they knew, but John felt that they had to get home as soon as was convenient. He wanted to put up new wards for the house and yard and do some more research on those notes. Both he and Dumbledore felt that, since the older wizard only had so much free time, John would take over the responsibility in looking at the notes while Dumbledore took over the arrangements with the goblins. They would meet together in Dumbledore's office on Friday and proceed with dissecting John's head.

John smiled ruefully. _Dumbledore didn't put it quite in those terms, but that is basically what we'll be doing!_

"How're the children doing? Think they'd be ready to leave in the morning, or are they having too much fun?" he asked.

Irene sighed. "They really love it here, but…I think they really miss home. They need to have consistency again, I feel. Things have a been a bit too…_wild_."

They strolled down the dark hall and stopped at the closed nursery door.

"Should we wake them? Tell them you're here?"

John paused. "No…let them sleep. They've had a harrowing day. D'you suppose I'll wake them if I peer inside?"

Irene concealed her grin rather well; while he was talking, she had heard a sound from inside the room. "Why, they're sound asleep! How could you possibly wake them up? They won't even notice you're there," she said innocently.

The door creaked open and John peered inside.

"DADDY!"

There were two loud thuds as something knocked into him and a sickening crunch. He toppled backwards, narrowly avoiding his wife, and the two boys fell with him.

"You're home! Guess what _we_ did today! I made this potion --- well, Lexa helped, I guess --- and then there was this gi_nor_mous explosion!----"

"----Daddy! Daddy! Mory got eaten! An' me an' Aun' Hessy went for a walk and guess what?----"

"----And I can't believe you _missed _it! There were fireworks everywhere! Plus, I think one actually hit the Mansion. _And_ we had dinner and Pr-Pr-Proseffor --- I-I mean Professor Dummydoor --- Dumblefore --- Dumberdore----" Tobias stopped, confused.

Evander, however, kept on talking, "An' there was a storm, Daddy! But it's mostly gone now…I think…"

He disentangled himself from his dad and his brother and ran over to the nearest window. He was just barely tall enough to peak over the ledge and squint through the darkness outside. There was a rustle behind John and tousle-haired Alexandra appeared.

"Wh-wha's going on?" she asked sleepily, then squinted at her father. At once she brightened and squealed, "_Daddy_!"

John laughed as she launched herself at him and he was knocked to the floor for a second time. Evan ran back over and sat himself right on top of his sister, who was sitting on their father, who was half-on and half-off of Toby. The oldest boy, however, kept on talking animatedly, undaunted by all the weight now settled on his right arm.

For a while, John tried desperately hard to listen to all three conversations at once, but finally he had to give up. He looked up at his wife, who was standing beside the door with a smug smile on her face. "A little help here?" he asked dryly.

Irene just looked down at him, chuckling. "So much for going unnoticed!"

* * *

Biddy the house-elf was walking along a hall as well, but she was several floors higher. She had climbed all the way up the creaky, old stairs to the topmost floor of the Hesperus Mansion.

The halls were black as night, the empty doorways that stood on either side loomed over her small body. Most of the storm had blown itself out, but the rain kept falling across the western half of the British Isles.

It was much colder up here, she decided. No one usually came to the top floor, they were so busy with all of the other ones. Biddy herself wouldn't even have been up here, if it hadn't been for her suspicion that one of the windows was broken.

House-elves could, of course, just _pop_ from one room to the next if they wanted. However, Biddy had only been living at the Mansion for a year. She couldn't possibly be expected to know the arrangement of room and furniture in just that short of time, and she didn't even know the layout of the fourth floor. She didn't want to _pop _right into a table, after all! So she went as high as she could remember, which was the third floor, then walked up the last staircase.

Biddy cocked her head to the side, listening. Her large ears were prone to catching the tiniest things. With them, she was able to tell whether there was any unwanted mouse or gnome in any quarter of the Mansion. Sure enough, she heard a faint banging that sounded like a door opening and closing by a draft…

She snapped her fingers and the candles in the brackets came to life. They crackled quite loudly for a bit, as if they hadn't been used in centuries, then settled down. With the hall lit, she set off down it, towards where she estimated the broken window to be.

When she was on the grounds a few hours ago --- when the fireworks were zooming about, and Mistress Irene and Master Balfour were yelling in the Greenhouse --- at first all she'd been able to see was Alexandra, leaning precariously out of the window. Biddy was just about to warn her about falling when a loud crash caught her attention. A Catherine Wheel collided into the large front window on the highest floor.

She'd forgotten all about it in the entire hullabaloo with Morgan, then Dumbledore, and then dinner. But now she was free, it was still there, and it needed fixing.

Though Biddy would much rather have had that firework crash on anything other than the fourth floor.

* * *

The cook was happy. She was marvelously happy, in fact. A towel slung over one shoulder, she set to bringing out pans and teaspoons and cups and other ingredients, whistling a merry tune all the while. She was making fudge.

She should be heading home, she knew. But tonight was Sunday night, which meant that her husband would be glued to the telly, watching the games. He wouldn't miss her.

Around her, ingredients were zooming out of the cupboards, stacking themselves on the counter. Sometimes she worked so vigorously that they bumped right into her head. But not tonight --- instead, they floated around with a sort of spring in them, as if dancing to her tune.

Dumbledore would be leaving soon, she knew, soon as he finished talking with the Baron. She wanted him to try some of her delicious dessert first, though. He'd never stayed for desserts before…he was in for a surprise, because tonight she felt like adding a twist. So, as she melted the chocolate and added more flour into the mix, she moved over to the cupboard on the far right, and started rummaging around. Then she found it.

"Ah-ha!" she said, turning the jar over in her hands. Raspberry jam. She chuckled, knowing that there was no possible way he would leave without at least trying some of this. The temptation would be far too great.

Yes…there was no doubt about it…Mistress Marmalaida Dunblane had him in the palm of her hand.

* * *

Dumbledore peered at the miniscule dot on his palm.

He was standing in the Baron's laboratory, which connected to his suite of rooms in the northeast parts of the Mansion on the second floor. Surrounding him were all sorts of odd instruments and diagrams relating to the complicated portions of plants. There were long tables pushed up against the wall with bits and parts of poisonous leaves, dissected fungus, enlarged roots, and plenty of other varieties of the plant species.

One wall was covered in windows, giving light to all its occupants. Yet another wall was shelved with dozens and dozens of books; Albus could read such titles as _Flesh-Eating Trees of the World… Hopping Around the Horticulture of Europe…_and _Fundamental Fungi: Friend or Fiend?_

"…You see, in a normal mushroom, there is a reproductive structure called the basidiumwhere the basidiosporesare produced," Lord Balfour was explaining patiently. "What you are looking at now is a piece of the gill that houses the basidia which, in turn, houses the spores."

Behind Lord Balfour, on the wall that held no other object, was an enormous painting. It was far larger than any other in the Hesperus Mansion, and it had a very sturdy yellow frame. At first glance, Albus thought the man in it to be Balfour himself, but...he leaned closer to look more closely at the tall, handsome man in bright blue robes, large dragon-hide gloves, and brown hair pulled back in a low ponytail. He could now see that this must be the great Beaumont Marjoribanks, Balfour's great-grandfather.

"Do you see the spores?" Balfour Marjoribanks asked beside his shoulder.

Albus peered closely at the little gill, then looked at Balfour and shook his head.

"That's because there _aren't _any!" Balfour answered. He threw up his hands, further proclaiming his frustration. "Each mushroom can produce over a billion spores, yet there isn't even one spore on here! There isn't any such thing, as far as I know, as a mushroom without a reproductive system. Instead, there is some sort of…substance…that I've never come across before underneath the cap of this one here----"

He broke off, massaging his temples. "The point of the matter, Dumbledore, is that this mushroom is the only one of its kind. I believe it may even be extinct, because it just doesn't match up with any other fungi in any of these." He tapped one of the numerous set of books on his desk.

Albus glanced down. The _Encyclopedia of Toadstools _sat beside three old and battered copies of _One Thousand Magical Herb and Fungi…Mushrooms: the Common and the Uncommon…_and _The Britain Medical Guide for the Magical Botanist._

Balfour sat down hard in the wheeled chair behind him, setting his elbows on the table and putting his head in his hands.

Albus Dumbledore studied his former student. "It looks to me," he said slowly, "as if you could use some assistance."

Balfour looked up and narrowed his eyes suspiciously. "And what exactly did you have in mind?"

* * *

Hestia stared at the glowing embers. The front room, which had so recently held seven occupants, now housed just the one.

The fiery red hue lit her face in the dimmed room. The only other light came from two candles hanging on the wall. It was dark outside…very dark…and she was quite alone in this room, but she couldn't help thinking about what it was Biddy had said last…

_Perhaps you wouldn't be so lonely if you had a Lot, too… _

Lot had been Biddy's mate. It wasn't but four months after Hestia's parents' deaths when the two had entered Hogwarts. Since Biddy had sworn never to leave her side, arrangements were made and Biddy accompanied her to the castle. Biddy spent most of her time with the other house-elves in their quarters, and though she didn't really serve Hogwarts, she still cooked and cleaned with the others during that seven-year stay.

It was during that time that Biddy met Lot.

One of the coals shifted and there was a sparkle and a crack. Hestia drew her legs under her, not taking her eyes off the fireplace.

_Perhaps you wouldn't be so lonely if you had a Lot, too…_Hestia knew that that was Biddy's way of saying that she knew there was something missing in Hestia's life.

She gave a small snort of irony. How funny was it that she, Hestia Hesperus, world-known author with thousands of fans, and never seen without a friend beside her…was lonely? If anyone had a right to be as alone as she felt, it was Albus…

_The poor man_, she thought. _There is only one person who has even come close to sharing half his intellect and that is Nicholas Flamel. He used to be part of an elite group back in the early nineteen hundreds…but he's the only one left of them, now. _

_I wonder what it must be like…living life as a solitaire…no one to really look up to at all…always trying to live up to everyone else's expectations._

_How can he stand it all?_

She smiled and shook her head, not even trying to fathom the mind of her dear, century-old friend.

But then again…she _did _know someone else who felt so alone going through a difficult time. Back when You-Know-Who was at the height of his power… he'd had only himself and his sister, both running from the wrath of this dark wizard. There was nowhere for him to hide…no one for him to turn to…except for the Muggles…

Within seconds, Hestia once again became engrossed inside the depths of her mind. She had returned to that scene at the docks with the lone young man searching for his newfound friends…

_…But what happens next? How in Merlin's name is he able to…and the Death Eaters…why did they…and what about David? How does he get from one place to another without…well, without the obvious?_

She sighed, frustrated. She hated being a writer. She hated it with a passion…all of these thoughts, all of these ideas and plots and riddles and puzzle pieces…all leading to _nowhere!_

"Why, oh why, oh why?" she muttered, recalling the lines of one of her favorite childhood Muggle characters.

She leaned back and looked up at the high ceiling; the intricate pattern etched across it reminded her forcefully of the choppy, rocking waves. They cut through the pasty marble, changing it into something quite remarkably like…

Peering up at it, she cocked her head to the side. It did…especially if you tilted your head to the side, and it was almost upside-down, then it almost did look like one of those Muggle contraptions…

She gasped. She had it…she knew what she could do. Mind you, it would take a bit to piece together, but if she played it right…

She had to look it up, to see if it was possible.

Dazed, with an absent-minded grin on her face, she hurried off to her library.

Everything else could wait.

* * *

A door slammed. There came a shrill sound, like the tinkling of breaking glass. Biddy glanced edgily over her shoulder, but the hallway was empty…nothing was there.

Then she saw it. In a large, empty place --- it looked like it used to be some sort of ballroom --- there was an enormous window on the far wall with more than half of the glass scattered around the dusty floor.

Biddy picked her way through the debris, studying the window. There was no way to tell whether all of the pieces were there…not when the damage was done with this much force. She couldn't just snap her fingers and have it be completely new again…if there was something missing…or even worse, what if there was a piece behind her? It would have to go through her body to return to the window.

Lightning flashed off in the distance, signifying the last of the storm. Outside, the rain dripped idly down. Biddy glanced out onto the darkened grounds…then froze.

Right beside the outside gate, next to the black, empty road, was two figures. One was far shorter than the other, muffled in a bulky cloak, but the other was definitely a man, speaking in a soft, low voice.

Biddy's ears tensed. She listened, hard. That voice…it sounded faintly familiar. Where'd she heard it before? She racked her mind for several minutes, ending up with nothing.

The man outside pulled something very small out of his cloak and gave it to the much shorter figure. The latter received it and said something in a deep grumble.

Biddy gasped. She knew who --- or rather, _what_ --- the shorter one was…and it could only mean trouble.

Just then, both of them stopped talking and sharply turned their heads.

They were looking right at her.

* * *

In a room with a large bed, a partial family was gathered. They would talk quietly, some would even shriek with laughter…after which, they were almost immediately hushed by the other, quieter members.

However, they hadn't been gathered but five minutes when the last of them came in, rubbing her sleepy little eyes, her golden hair spread about her like a halo. Immediately she crawled under the covers with the rest of her brothers and sister, nestled onto her daddy's lap, and nuzzled her head into his chest, beside her mother's own golden head.

"And _then_ what happened?" Dad whispered.

"And then Aunt Hestia came!" Alexandra said, her cheeks flushed. "The thunder grumbled and the lightning flashed in every direction, and the doors _flew _open! And we jumped! But…I wasn't frightened. Toby was, though! His eyes got big and his eyebrows flew up --- like they do when he's scared, you know, they go into this sort of arch----"

"They do not!" Toby protested. "And I was not, either!"

Alexa smiled sweetly and patted her brother's arm. "Oh, don't worry, Tobe…we believe you. Honestly!"

Tobias just scowled at her before grumbling at the bed sheets. His sister turned back to their father. "And _then_, oh you'll never guess what happened next, Dad! But she came striding in, holding Vanny, who was all wet and shivering --- poor baby! --- and she went right up to Dumbledore, looking him right in the eyes, and said----" Her eyes sparkled as she drew in her breath. But just before she was about to repeat what exactly it was her aunt had said in the most uncanny impersonation, she was interrupted.

"Alright, alright, Alexa, we don't need a play-by-play!" Irene said, hastily. She saw her daughter's expression, and knew that this conversation would go on all night if Alexandra wanted it to.

Alexandra let out her breath and pouted. Daddy reached over and kissed her on the head. "Maybe another time," he said, "But for right now, Mummy and I need to tell you all something."

Immediately, the children's ears perked up. "What? You need to tell us what?" Alexa said.

"Di' we get a…a…di' we get a new _bafftub_?" Evander asked, his eyes wide with excitement.

Mum chortled. "A _bathtub_? What on earth, Evan?"

Alexandra scrutinized her mother. "You're not havin' another baby again, are you, Mum?"

"Ha!" Tobias guffawed. "Then there'll be _three_ boys and only two girls!"

"How d'you know it'll be a _boy_?" Alexandra asked, affronted. "It could be a girl, you know. We aren't all _that_ extinct!"

"That's what you said _last_ time, Lex! And look what happened to this shrimp!" He plopped his hand down onto his little brother's head, messing up his hair.

Morgan suddenly squealed. "Ooh! I know! It's a unitorn! You bought me a unitorn! Is it outside, Daddy? Can I see it right now, Daddy? Hmm?"

"Oh, don't be ridiculous, Mory, that's impossible."Tobiassaid conversationally. "Daddy can't catch one! He's just can't run fast enough!"

Their father let out a roar of laughter. "Now wait just one minute! Everyone just hold on to their Sickles, alright?"

They swiveled in their seats to look over at him.

He raised an appraising eye over them. "That's better. Now, number one: Evan, we are not getting another bathtub, we already have three."

"But one's being used for my chizpurfle establishme----" Tobias began.

"_Number two!_" Dad glared at him. "Alexandra, your mother is _not _pregnant, and----"

"Actually, John…" Irene said, quietly.

* * *

Biddy gave a small squeak of alarm and _popped _in her fright. Immediately, the horror of she had just done hit her. She had vanished without a destination. That meant that wherever she was traveling right now was a place based on her fear.

A split second later, she reappeared, but just _where_, she had no idea. She was standing in complete darkness. Whereas before there had been moonlight and candle flames, now she couldn't even see her ears in front of her face.

_Drip…drip…drip…_

Biddy stiffened. She snapped her fingers, and a small ball of fire appeared in her hand. Holding it out in front of her, she looked around cautiously. She seemed to be in some kind of…_tunnel_. The floor looked like it was just dirt, but she could feel stone slabs underneath. And the walls…they were so grimy and moist that it was hard to tell.

She didn't know what to do…she could _pop _right into the living room, or even go all the way back up to the fourth floor (she thought that "up" was the right direction, anyway…she had a suspicion that this was the lowest point of the Mansion). That window needed to be fixed sooner or later…she'd just rather it be later, such as when it was sunny and bright, and those two…_people_…weren't there anymore.

But, on the other hand, this Mansion was her mistress's and Biddy felt rather uneasy about the fact that there was a portion of it she did not know about. If the magical enchantments covered the Mansion like a dome…they would stop at the grounds, which meant that _something _could tunnel far under the earth and come up…

Here.

Her enormous brown eyes peered cautiously through the darkness, down the long tunnel on her right. Somehow, it just seemed…friendlier in this direction then the one behind her.

She took a deep breath, twitched her ears forward, and held her ball of fire in front of her. Courage gathered, and wits drawn in about her, she took a timid step forward, then another, and walked deeper into the tunnel.

Meanwhile, a dozen feet above her, a lone figure was sitting at a desk, oblivious to the world around her.

Hestia was writing furiously. Her eyes were alight with determination, her hand was red from being in the same cramped position, and her mind focused vividly on one single thing --- the climax of her story. Wonderful ideas poured out of her, like juice slowly squeezed from a lemon. They engulfed her every being, ensnared her every senses, entwined her very soul until she was no more than a knot of brambles.

She could spare no thought or emotion for what was happening around her. All she cared about was getting it down on paper in the most refined way possible. The world could have flooded, the library could have blown up around her…what care had she for the simple things of the world? For the universe she had created inside the depths of her mind was much too glorious for reality.

Why, even if Albus Dumbledore himself were to prance into the library, she wouldn't even have known. Unless, of course, he ----

"Aaauuugghh!" Hestia gave a strangled yell and jerked up.

"Gracious me!" said Albus with mirth obvious in his voice. "Who could have known that neck massages gave witches heart attacks?"

Hestia took a deep breath, telling her body to calm down. _Nothing's wrong…you're not being attacked, no one wants to kill you…though I wouldn't say the same for _him!

She smiled sourly up at him. "But as you very well know, Albus, I am not most witches."

Albus studied her. "Perhaps a bit too bitter for my taste, wouldn't you agree, Balfour?"

Hestia heard Balfour's deep laugh from the doorway. "Yes, she can be rather sour at times, but I can put up with her. Perhaps one of the very few who can!" he said smugly.

Hestia's eyes glittered with mischief, but Balfour, unfortunately, could not see it. Neither could he see the tip of her wand move ever so slightly, but he certainly could taste the consequence a split second later. There was no ignoring the bitterest taste he'd ever come in contact with, which was now filling his mouth.

He jumped backwards with a muffled yelp, and the frothing bubbles filling his mouth to the brim sloshed onto the floor. Albus chuckled at the sight of him, while Hestia smiled sweetly.

"Is _that _sour enough for you?" she asked.

* * *

John stared at his wife.

"I meant to tell you sooner, honestly," Irene finished weakly, "But we kept on being interrupted, what with the…er…" She glanced over at the kids, who all looked awestruck. "----The _thing _I had to talk with you about at the hospital, and then, what with the window breaking and that mushroom exploding and all…there were just more important things," she said.

"Oh, honey!" John wrapped his arms around her and kissed her nose. "There's nothing more important than you and our children. Even if one of them I haven't met yet!" He gave a foolish grin and leaned down to smack a noisy kiss on his wife's belly. The children giggled and took this as the perfect opportunity to bounce on the bed and all talk at the same time.

"A baby! A baby!" Morgan shrieked. "I _love_ babies! Carrie-Down-The-Street has a little baby brother, and she says he's the cutest, most yummiest, most --- most _huggy_ baby there is!"

Evander squirmed until he was right beside his mother, then he too began covering her stomach with five-year-old kisses. Irene couldn't stop laughing. It really tickled her when he did that.

"Is it a boy or girl? A little man or a little woman? Male or female? Masculine or femini----?"

"Merlin, Toby! She wouldn't know yet! Stop being so annoying!" Alexandra scolded, then turned to her dad, "But that wasn't all you were going to tell us, were you, Daddy? You said that both you _and _Mum had to tell us something, not just Mum."

John leaned back onto his pillows, still winded about the fact that he was going to be the father of five children. "Wha----?" Irene elbowed him. "Oh…yes…er, your mother and I were talking, and we think it would be best for all of us to leave for the Rookery tomorrow morning."

At once, there was an uproar of complaints.

"_Tomorrow? _In the _morning?_" Alexandra's voice rose in a whine.

"Bu' can't we stay and----" Tobias started.

"No," John said shortly.

"Bu' _Daddy!_ What about my baby plants? Who's gonna take care of them? Who's gonna feed them? An' love them? An' sing to them? I ain't got no other unitorn babies in the _world!_" Morgan cried, her cheeks flushed and her eyes suddenly a lot more blue --- the two guarantees for another crying fit.

"Oh, my little fairy." John drew her in and kissed the top of her curls. "What about your little garden at home, eh? I bet your petunias miss you whole great big bunches! And those little yellow roses are probably blooming right about now as well…you wouldn't want to miss it, now would you?"

Mournfully, his youngest daughter shook her head.

Evan sat on his mother's lap, watching the interchange with his thumb stuck in his mouth. He was very glad they were going home…he missed it a lot. Of course he loved his aunt, and Uncle Balfour, and Marmie, and even Old William very , _very _much, and he loved exploring with his brother and sisters, too…but he just liked home. That's all.

"Mummy?" he asked quietly. When she turned to look at him, he put his hands on her cheeks and lowered her head until they were eye to eye.

"Yes, Vanny?" She asked him seriously.

"'Fyou've got a baby in your tummy, then does tha' mean tha' _I _can't be your baby anymores?" He looked sadly at her.

"Oh, darling!" She smothered his face with kisses, making him giggle. "Of course you'll still be my baby! You'll _always _be my baby, sweets, and don't let anyone ever tell you any different, okay?"

He nodded, then yawned sleepily. A lull came into the group huddled close together on the bed as the children tried desperately hard to blink back their tiredness. There were a few more whispered conversations, and one more bicker between the twins, who were trying to decide on whether it who would be the first to wake up at night. Alexandra said it would most likely be her because Toby --- with his tossing and turning --- would probably kick her in his sleep. Tobias, on the other hand, was convinced that Alexandra would spend another dream-filled night walking around the room and waking him up.

Dad spoiled this argument by saying that he didn't care who woke up, as long as they left him and Mum well enough alone.

Finally, at five minutes to twelve o'clock, the last of them drifted off. John and Irene lay in the midst of a tangle of arms and legs and held each other's hands.

"A baby," John whispered lovingly. "We're going to have another baby!"

Irene chuckled softly. "Yes, dear."

"How far along are you? I mean, when did we…"

"I…it's hard to tell for now, but I feel as if I'm around…eleven or…twelve weeks?" She furrowed her brow.

John smiled dreamily, then shook his head and calculated quickly. "So…around December? Close to my birthday?"

Irene's eyes twinkled. She knew how much her husband wanted to share birthdays with one of the children. Morgan hadn't been quite there yet when she was born, and Evan bypassed it completely.

"Perhaps," she answered. "She might even be born on Christmas! Mmm…I'm not too sure I want that, though…"

John sat up. Alexandra, who had her head on his stomach, moaned and turned over. "Sh-sh-she? You mean it's a girl?"

"I'm not for sure yet, so don't get any ideas, you! So far, this pregnancy has been a lot closer to Morgan's though. So I'm guessing."

"Can the Healer tell what it is yet, though? Or is it still too soon?"

"Mmm…" Irene thought, "Well, I haven't really been sick at all, unlike when I was pregnant with the twins and Evan, but I haven't broken out yet, like I did with Mory, either. I'd say give it another week or so and it'll be safe to see a Healer."

"How about Andie?" John asked immediately. "She specializes in these sort of things----"

"----You mean in women's uteruses?"

"----_And _your previous two Healers have already retired, so…" John trailed off expectantly.

"_So, _I think it's far too early to decide on who should deliver the baby, John! She might not even be available, anyway."

John made a sound in the back of his throat that sounded remarkably like he was just about to whine.

Irene made a face at him. "You only want her because you had a crush on her at school!"

John immediately went on the defensive. "I did not!"

She glared sideways at him.

"Erm…alright…I did…but that does not mean that she isn't the best, and you know I only want you to go to the best! Besides," he sneaked a glance at her. "D'you honestly believe that I would bring my wife into the delivery room, while she's in _labor, _and start hitting on the married Healer while my baby's being born?"

Irene laughed. "It _has_ happened before, you know! You definitely wouldn't be the first."

John grinned and kissed her soundly. "_Good_."

For another minute, they were completely occupied with each other, until John abruptly broke away and sniffed.

"What's that smell?" he asked. "It smells like something bloody delicious!"

He got out of bed and wondered to the hallway, sniffing the entire time. Irene gave him a good whack on the head as she disentangled herself from her sleeping children as well. "It had better be if you forsake _me _for it!" she said in affronted tones, following him down the hall.

He seemed not to have heard her, however, as a satisfied smile broke out across his face. "We Rosier men always knows when something is cooking, Irene, mark my words! And my delectable sniffer tells me that it is indeed the very smell of homemade fudge…with a twist!"

Irene rolled her eyes as she descended the stairs behind the "Sniffer".

_"With a twist"? And he calls himself a genius! How can you tell the difference between regular fudge and fudge "with a twist"?_

She snorted with laughter.

_Men!

* * *

_

Biddy stopped. She smelled something…and it was coming in this direction…

She peered down a corridor that led off to her right.

It smelled really good…most definitely a dessert…and there was no doubt about the cooking being Marmie's.

She heard a faint cry sounding down the dark tunnel she had been about to enter. She pricked her ears, but the aroma of fresh fudge was too great.

She smiled, and shook her head. Curiosity could wait. She had a plate of yummies with her name on it, and she wasn't about to pass it up.

She turned right and hurried up the sloping floor.

* * *

Thus it was in the gorgeous front room that they gathered once again that night. The fire nearly burst with excitement at being the only source of light in the dim room. The ceiling stretched high above them, its choppy, intricate engravement dancing in the firelight's glow.

They all talked and laughed, the two Rosiers, the two keepers of the Hesperus Mansion, the house-elf, the Baron, and the Headmaster. Far above them came the soft snores of the children, who had fallen asleep at last after the three times they'd been put to bed. All was quiet and dark outside, and the night thankfully devoid of any mysterious beings lurking outside the Mansion's gates...

* * *

He watched as the goblin left with a cold grin on his face. His customer was satisfied, the package had been delivered, and he himself had a pleasant visit he had yet to make. All was well with the world. Of course,he had failed abysmally this afternoon and he knew he would have to pay in blood...

But it was worth giving up his life or more in order to accomplish what he was planning.

He chuckled softly at the twisted images springing up in his mind, then he drew his cloak about him and started of down the street. It wasn't as good as his other cloak, but it would do. In less than a few months, why, he would be able to havehis pick of the best!

_But not quite yet, _he reminded himself. _First you're going to need to find a new place to live. The Rookery's owners are coming back in the morning and you have to have all of yourstuff moved out by then. They'll never be able to tell the difference._

_After all, you're only the best!_

* * *

To any normal observer, itlooked as ifthe mysterious man had just vanished into midair. To the magical witch or wizard, however, he had simply used the instant means totravel from one place to another. And, of course, to a certain witchwho went by the name ofHestia Hesperus, it was thisvery wizard who would be thecause of so muchchange inher future...and he had just Disapparated from outside of her window.

She couldn't know that this man was not as he first appeared. And, of course, she couldn't possibly be expected to know that it was this very same man whom she had met before, both in real life...and in the realms of her Fore-token Orb.

For thiswizard had around him the very outline of a mysterious man.

* * *

Meanwhile, in the Mansion, there was burst of joyful laughter.

The fudge was brought out, and a hint of raspberry scented the air. One of the four wizards shot a triumphant look at his wife, while the eldest of the group perked up and eyed the plate of fudge with a gleam in his eye.

And it wasn't long after that when a sudden hush filled the group as a woman walked in, the very essence of happiness, with a manuscript in hand. The dim light danced across half her face, leaving the other in a dusky glow. Her eyes shone with a hidden secret that she was simply bursting to tell them. She took a deep breath and looked around at them all.

"I've finished it!" was all she said, but the words carried such weight that a tingle went through the wizards and witches gathered on the red and golden couches. They all looked up at her, a smile on their faces, silently encouraging her to open the small book to the front page and read them her delightful story.

She cleared her throat, her fingers trembling, and felt the rough edges of the delightfully thick parchments, relishing in the feel of a fully complete book.

"_The Tempest," _she read aloud, the emerald ink glinting in slanted letters off the title page. "Written by Hestia Hesperus in the summer of nineteen hundred and ninety-one."

She glanced up as those around her quickly situated themselves comfortably. Her beloved friends and family all looked up at her, ready to listen to her delightful tale of adventure, friendship, bravery, and love.

For one lingering moment, she captured their faces in her mind, their smiles, their selves, and promised to remember this forever. Then, with their quiet nods beckoning her on, she turned the page and began to read…

" '_Sir, I invite your highness and your train to my poor cell, where you shall take your rest for this one night; which, part of it, I'll waste, with such discourse as I, not doubt, shall make it go quick away. The story of my life and the particular accidents gone by since I came to this isle…'"_

* * *

_**Author's Note: **Thus, the beginning tale of my series is ended. And thus it will be continued in a few months' time, but shall be under the new name of "A Wizard's Tale"...unless I should find another title more befitting. _

_Thank you so much, all of your reviewers! (Namely, Whydoyouneedtoknow, Mistress Editor, Scott, and Rosie). _

_In a week (or more, or less) I will post the prologue of a new story "The Tempest". It has nothing whatsoever to do with the Rosiers or the Hesperus' or the Mansion. It takes place in Somerset, England on the eve of October 30,1981. _

_I hope you all have enjoyed this chapter. It's one of my favorites! Good luck on your own stories, and give Anne Walsh a good pat on the back for beta-ing for me! _

_Cheers!_

_Love, Hestia_


End file.
